preferably during business hours
by kabensi
Summary: After New York, Quinn takes a summer job at Burt's garage only to have Rachel show up looking for a lube job. But, like, as in an actual oil change.
1. Chapter 1

The agreement is that Rachel's able to drive Hiram's old car whenever she wants, as long as she pays for gas and general maintenance. She's never gone by herself to get an oil change, before. The last time she was here, she was with Finn and he just walked right in and talked to a guy named Frank and they were in and out in less than twenty minutes.

But today she's by herself and she's been standing in the wide entrance to the garage for several minutes, waiting for someone to assist her.

"Hello?" she calls into the space of the tire shop, but all she hears in response is the local Lima Top 40 station talking about summer hits that never stop. Someone has to be on duty, because the place is open, so she takes a few cautious steps onto the garage floor, aware of what's around her, because she doesn't care to get any kind of grease on her new summer dress.

After a brief survey of the space, she still doesn't see anyone and she supposes they could be on lunch. Maybe she should come back tomorrow.

Then she sees the legs, two of them, clad in dark blue with black work boots tied to the feet. They're too small to be Burt's and she knows he doesn't put in as much time in the garage as he used to since the heart attack, so she bends down, trying to see if she can identify the rest of whoever is attached to the legs, but they're tucked underneath a sedan and she certainly isn't going to kneel on the floor to get a better view.

"Excuse me!" she calls out, knowing she carries enough projection to be heard, even over the radio. For emphasis, she nudges the foot with her own sandal.

There's a clatter and then the sound of the creeper (she know's that's what it's called because Finn always thought it was funny) rolling out from under the car. The legs are now also a torso with arms and finally a head appears and there's a face glaring up at her.

"You shouldn't touch people when they're under a car. It's dangerous."

Rachel stares down, arms crossed. "Perhaps you should me more diligent about addressing potential customers." Her posture loosens as she realizes who she's looking at. "I wasn't aware you worked here, Quinn."

"Well, why would you be?" Quinn sits up and wipes her hands on a rag that she pulls out of her pocket.

Rachel supposes that's a good point and she realizes she may have interrupted a major procedure. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but there's no one else around."

"Yes, you did. But it's not a big deal. I'm just studying."

Quinn rises to her feet and Rachel's able to take in the sight of her in the navy coveralls, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, still rubbing the grease off her hands. Her hair is held out of her face with a few bobby pins, but it's otherwise askew, though it works well with the shorter cut she's had ever since New York. Rachel notices the red and white patch that says "Quinn" in cursive letters and wonders just how long Quinn has been employed at Hummel Tires & Lube.

"Studying?"

"How else am I supposed to know how everything works around here?"

"I wasn't aware you had an interest in the automotive arts."

Quinn leans back against the hood of the sedan. "It's a small town and I need a summer job if I want to be able to afford any kind of ticket out of here after graduation. This seemed more lucrative than working at the Lima Bean, making minimum wage. And stop looking so damn surprised. Coach used to make us do maintenance on her Le Car, all the time." She stuffs the rag in her back pocket. "You are aware that women have the right to vote now, too, don't you?"

While she admits she was certainly caught off guard by Quinn's presence, Rachel doesn't care to address the sarcasm. "I'm here for an oil change."

There's a smirk as Quinn reaches for the clipboard that rests on top of a tall rolling tool chest. "What's the matter, you can't get your boyfriend to help you out with a lube job?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. Everyone thinks Finn and I reunited after that stunt at Nationals, but we didn't. He cost us everything and..." Even a month later, Rachel's still furious just thinking about it.

"He probably thought it was romantic and that you'd forget about everything else," Quinn mutters. She writes something down, then looks past Rachel, out the open garage door. "Is that your car?"

Rachel looks behind her and nods, but she's still caught up in not wanting Quinn think she's so easily swayed by grand gestures. "It was romantic, but it was also highly inappropriate."

"What, inappropriate like breaking up with someone at a funeral? Finn would never do anything like that." Quinn's back to writing and not looking at Rachel.

"I really am sorry for the way he treated you, Quinn. Had I know he was having second thoughts about me, I would have-"

"Doesn't matter. It's over. So..." Quinn shrugs and flips the clipboard around so Rachel can see it. "It'll be twenty-one ninety-five. Give me about twenty minutes. Just initial right there," she taps the pen against the page, "for the estimate."

The shift is sudden, but she supposes Quinn has a point about not dwelling on the past. She takes the pen, delicately at first, making sure there isn't any kind of engine grease on it, then writes out an RBB with a star after it. "Last time I was here with Finn, it was thirty."

"He must have calculated the discount wrong. You can sit in the waiting room or if you want to go somewhere else, I'll just text you when it's done."

"I was planning to pick up lunch around the corner." Rachel takes another look around the garage. If Quinn's the only one on duty, she's probably been working all morning. "Would you like me to bring you something?"

"You don't have to do that. Frank will be back in a half an hour and then I'll have my break."

"So, it will be almost perfect timing. I'm bringing you a sandwich."

"I didn't even say I wanted a sandwich."

"Then maybe Frank will eat it."

Quinn just shakes her head and holds out her hand. "Keys?" Rachel hands them over and adjusts her purse on her shoulder. She's three steps outside of the garage when she hears, "Turkey club on wheat. If you're really serious."

Rachel smiles to herself and glances over her shoulder. "When am I ever not?"

She's absolutely serious the next morning, too, when she shows up at the garage, fifteen minutes before opening.

Quinn sits on a plastic crate outside the locked building. She has the top half of her coveralls tied around her waist so Rachel is able to read that her light yellow t-shirt says "Christ Crusaders Charity 5k Run" on it. Quinn has a book open in her lap and it's only until Rachel is three feet from her that she looks up and cocks her head. "Unless you just drove to California and back, you can't possibly be need another oil change."

Rachel has two coffee cups in her hands and she holds one out to Quinn. "Daddy says he's never paid any less than thirty-five dollars, even with a coupon, since 2003. So, you either undercharged me by accident or you gave me a bigger discount on purpose."

Quinn eyes to cup being offered to her and finally accepts it, asking, "What is this?"

"Vanilla caramel soy half-caf. It's what I always get. I didn't know your drink of choice."

"So, what, you're evening out the balance by bringing me coffee?"

"And lunch."

"You did that yesterday."

"But you have to eat again today."

Quinn shakes her head and sips the coffee. There's a reluctant smile as she says, "This is actually pretty good."

There's a second crate a few feet away, so Rachel picks it up and moves it closer so she can sit next to Quinn. Today she's wearing an older skirt and isn't too worried about getting it dirty, though she still briefly inspects the seat for anything that might stain before she sits. Quinn just watches her from over the top of the cup.

"Are you always early?" Rachel asks.

"When Burt's here, he opens everything up at eight-thirty, which he was supposed to be today, but I guess he's running late."

"Do you like working here?"

"It's better than sitting around at home, being bored."

"But it's our last summer as high school students. Isn't there something else you'd rather be doing before your senior year?"

"I told you yesterday, I have to save up if I want to get out of here."

"I was under the impression that your family-"

"You don't know anything about my family." Quinn seems like she wants to shut it down, right there, but Rachel isn't about to let that happen.

"You can talk to me, you know. We were actually working on being friends, weren't we?"

Quinn practically drains her coffee cup before she says, "My sister married a UPS guy just to get the hell out of this town. And she only made it to Columbus."

"Does he drive one of those trucks?"

"No, he... he owns a bunch of stores."

"Oh, that actually sounds like he's quite the entrepr-"

"It doesn't matter what he does, Rachel. It's that Frannie was so desperate to get out she just... I don't know, I guess she loves him. He's just way older than she is."

"And that's not how you want to make it out of here," Rachel says. She remembers that night at the prom, the sting still in her cheek as Quinn revealed just how scared she is about the future.

Quinn shakes her head. "I'm applying to every college I can. I don't care where it is, but I want to do it on my terns and I need to have the finances to back it up. When my dad left, he took half of everything and Mom's had to go back to work. We're not poor or anything, but college isn't cheap and I'm already going to have to take out student loans."

Rachel stares down at her cup. She knows she's always been lucky with the emotional support her fathers have always given her and the way they've allowed her to do anything she's ever wanted. She knows that when she goes to New York, no matter which school she attends, that they'll take care of it. She has every kind of security she could ever imagine and it's because her parents believe in her and her dream.

"Maybe if you get into a school in New York, we could rent an apartment together."

Quinn's quick to snap back, "Except just about every college in existence makes their freshman live on campus." She sighs. "It's a nice thought, though."

"What do you want to study?" Rachel realizes that maybe these questions are pushing it, because Quinn isn't really the champion of opening up.

"English, maybe. Or art history. I guess I could study business or something." She looks over at Rachel. "Look, not everyone was born with a roadmap to lifelong success in their hands. All I've ever known is that I want to be prom queen and live outside of this awful town. Everything else is... flexible."

A truck pulls up in front of the shop and Rachel's quick to realize that it's Finn's.

"Oh god, why," Quinn mutters under her breath.

"Hey," he says, glancing back and forth between Quinn and Rachel. "What's up, Rachel? Is something wrong with your car? I can look at it for you, if you want."

Rachel offers him a show smile. "Quinn took care of it, yesterday, thank you."

"Oh. Okay." His brow furrows. "So then why are-"

Quinn stands up and shoves the crate back against the wall. "I assume you're here with the keys."

"Yeah, Burt took my mom out to a breakfast or something and he's running late. So,"

Finn holds out a ring of keys, which Quinn swipes out of his hand. "Thanks."

"You need help opening up? I think I remember how."

"I can handle it."

"Okay. Frank sh-"

"-should be here in about five minutes. I know, Finn. I'm the one who works here." Quinn offers a pleasant smile to Rachel. "Thanks for the coffee."

Rachel smiles back. "I'll see you at lunch. There's no getting out of it."

Quinn just shakes her head and lets herself into the office.

Finn peers down at Rachel. "I didn't know you two were friends."

"Is it that difficult to imagine?"

"You're just so different, I guess."

"I suppose we are." There's an awkward silence and Rachel really doesn't care to let it carry on, so she excuses herself with, "I'm meeting my dads for brunch, so I should go. Lovely to see you, Finn."

She leaves him standing next to his truck and as soon as she's in her car, she can't resist texting Quinn.

**He doesn't seem to think that you and I would make good friends.**

She isn't sure if she'll even get a response, but she receives one almost immediately.

**Are we?**

**Maybe we can discuss this over lunch.**

**Is he still out there?**

Rachel glances over to where Finn's truck is parked and catches him looking away right as he realizes she's facing his direction. **Yes, actually. I think maybe he's watching me.**

**Creepy. Hey, if I do something, will you just go with it?**

**I'm always committed to a role.**

This time, there isn't a reply, but the garage door rolls up and Quinn steps out of the shop. Her coveralls are now pulled up and zipped and she has her hands in her pockets as she strolls over to Rachel's car. Finn looks startled, as if he's been caught doing something and he opens his truck door to get back inside.

Rachel rolls down her window and leans out of it. "Forget something?"

"Yeah, I did." In a lower voice, Quinn asks, "Is he watching us?"

Rachel shifts her eyes and nods. Quinn bends down and presses her lips to Rachel's. This is not at all anything Rachel was expecting, but she did promise to go along with whatever Quinn presented and if that's an impromptu kiss, then she's going to follow through with it. Her hand slips behind Quinn's neck and her fingers weave through the short tresses of blonde hair.

It's not until there's the sound of Finn's truck stalling out that they pull apart and glance over at the sound. He restarts the engine and within moments, he's down the street.

"That was a bold choice," Rachel says, allowing her hand to pull away from Quinn's neck.

"It was worth it. See you at lunch, Rachel."

As Rachel watches Quinn saunter back into the garage, she has no idea is Quinn meant it was worth the reaction from Finn or the actual act of kissing itself. She supposes the only way to find out is to find a way to make it happen, again.


	2. Chapter 2

At twelve-thirty, Rachel is standing in the same spot she was the day before, looking into the tire shop. This time, Quinn is visible from the doorway, bent over the engine of a yellow sports car.

Rachel edges around the tool chest and air compressor until she next to the car, trying to make sure she's in Quinn's line of sight. If touching someone while they're under a car is a bad idea, she's sure sneaking up on someone with their arm in an engine is probably even worse.

"Hi," she says.

Quinn looks up at her and smiles. "Hey."

"Am I interrupting?"

"Just let me finish securing this alternator." Quinn's arm moves up and down and Rachel hears the clicking sound of a wrench and then there's a loud clatter. "Dammit." She leans even further down. "I dropped it." There's a metallic pinging sound as something hits the garage floor and Quinn sighs, standing up only to drop down on her knees and grope around under the car. She has grease all over her hands and up her right arm. This is the dirtiest that Rachel thinks she has ever seen Quinn and yet, somehow, it suits her.

Quinn seems to locate whatever she's looking for and then she's back to reaching under the hood, her arm flexing as she finishes the job. Finally, she leans on both hands as she stares down into the space where she was just working. Rachel's curious, so she takes a step closer.

"What did you just do?"

"Okay, you see that, down there?" Quinn gestures with the end of the socket wrench that's in her hand.

Rachel peeks down into the engine. "Um. I see several things. None of which I can identify."

"Hold on." Quinn removes a penlight from her pocket and shines it down to where Rachel can see some kind of rubbery belt. "That's connected to the alternator, which charges the battery while the car runs."

"Car batteries are rechargeable?" Rachel finds herself asking.

"Mmhmm. That's why, when you leave lights on or the radio or something, without running the engine, they'll die. Because this has to turn to generate the charge." Quinn clicks off the light and looks at Rachel. "Do you know how to check your coolant level? Yours was low, yesterday."

Rachel shakes her head. "I know how to drive and pump my own gas. That's about it," she admits.

"This," Quinn taps a plastic tank that sits to the side of the engine, "is where your coolant goes. It should be around here." She points to a marking on the side. "Especially in the summer, because it's what keeps your car from overheating. And in the winter, it's what keeps it from freezing. So, just make sure it's always right. This is the oil cap and you can check the level of oil without opening it. You use the dipstick." She lifts her head back up to look at Rachel with a half-smile. "Or, you know, just be sure to come in when it's been three months or three thousand miles."

"It's already in my Google calendar."

"Sounds about right." Quinn's gaze shifts to Rachel's empty hands. "I thought you were bringing me another sandwich."

"I said I was bringing lunch. I didn't say what it was."

"I guess you didn't." Quinn's eyes linger for a moment, then she turns to place the wrench in the open drawer of the tool chest.

Rachel wants to ask about earlier, but she isn't sure how to introduce the topic, especially if it wasn't supposed to be anything other than a ploy to annoy Finn. "Is it ever awkward, working for your ex-boyfriend's stepfather?"

"Burt's too nice to let anything be awkward." Quinn has that rag out again and she's furiously rubbing it over her hands. "I could tell he was a little skeptical when I applied for the job, but Kurt was on Cheerios, so he knows what we had to do and put in a good word for me. Also, I was able to answer just about any question he could ask me about changing out tires and oil."

"Dad's been insisting that I should know how to change a tire, but we have the auto club."

"Your dad's right. Because what if you're stuck without cell service?"

"I... I could flag someone down."

"And be serial killed? Absolutely not. Come on." Quinn's walking toward the side of the garage and Rachel has to hurry to keep up with her.

"Where are we going?"

"You're changing and you're learning this."

"What about lunch?"

"Frank's not back until one. You know that."

Rachel does know that. It's why there's an ice chest in the backseat of her car, sitting in the shade. "How long will this take?"

"Fifteen minutes if you're a quick study." Quinn hands her a clean pair of coveralls and points toward the restroom. She looks down at Rachel's shoes, which are flats instead of sandals, which are apparently acceptable for the lesson. "Put your hair up, too." Rachel's about to shut the door, but Quinn puts her hand up to stop it. "I need your keys."

When Rachel exits the bathroom, both the pantlegs and sleeves are cuffed multiple times. She has no idea what size the jumpsuit is, but it certainly isn't a small. She secures her ponytail as she walks over to the rack where Quinn has elevated Rachel's car.

"I'm pretty sure I won't have one of these if I'm out on the road," Rachel says, looking at the hydraulic lift.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "So, this is your spare." She points to a tire that's sitting on the ground. "It has a hole in it, so it's a good thing we're doing this."

For the next ten minutes, Quinn talks about lug nuts and tire irons and Rachel actually finds that it's all fairly simple. Her biggest concern is that she's such a small person and maneuvering everything might be difficult if she ever has to actually change a tire on her own. When she voices that exact concern, Quinn lowers the car until it's almost to the ground.

"This is probably about how high it would be if you jacked it up on the side of the road."

"But what if I don't have a jack?"

Quinn wraps a hand around Rachel's elbow and leads her to the rear of the car, where the trunk is open. The carpeted covering of the trunk is lifted up and there's a round space that's now empty, because the spare has been removed. There's something else in the space, though, that looks like it's built in. Until Quinn reaches in and pops it out. "It comes with the car. So does the tire iron."

"How do you know about all of this?"

"It's just my job, Rachel."

Rachel doesn't believe that for a moment. Sometimes, it's almost like Quinn is a spy, trained in multiple trades. Maybe that's all part of Cheerios. "But if you keep showing other people how to do this, there won't be any work left for you."

"It would be irresponsible of me to not tell you about all of this."

Finn never once offered to teach her about anything like this. "I appreciate it." She watches as Quinn places the jack and iron back from where she removed them and Rachel's a little overwhelmed with what she's feeling, right now. It's incredible to have a friend who cares this much, but this is also the same friend who kissed her this morning and she wants to know more about what that means. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

As Quinn turns to look at her, the words Rachel originally planned on forming are lost somewhere and all she can think about is recapturing the moment from earlier. She pushes herself up, just enough, on her toes, so that her lips meet Quinn's and then they're kissing, once again.

"Wh-" But it's lost in the connection between them and Quinn seems to not care so much about whatever she was about to say. Her mouth, instead, moves against Rachel's, lips parting just enough to graze her tongue across Rachel's bottom lip.

"Quinn, do you still have the paperwork on that Camry from earlier?" It's Burt's voice coming from the other side of the garage.

Quinn pulls back, though she has a handful of Rachel's coveralls in her grasp. "It should be on the service counter." She relaxes her hand and smooths out the wrinkles she's left behind.

Burt appears from behind the SUV that's being serviced on the far side of the garage. "Oh, hey there, Rachel. Haven't seen you around. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you."

"Good." He smiles at her, then looks at Quinn. "You workin' on somethin'?"

"Uh, Rachel's spare has a leak and she wanted to know a little more about changing a tire on the road."

"You know, I wish Kurt had the same sense of automotive self preservation." Burt checks his watch. "It's about time for your lunch break, Quinn. I can take care of the patch."

"It's not a big deal, I can-"

"We have a pretty full afternoon, so you should get off your feet for a while."

"Thanks, Burt."

As Rachel retrieves the ice chest from the back of the car, she's pretty sure she isn't supposed to hear the whispered conversation, but she can't help that she has excellent hearing.

"If you ever need to talk about anything, I know your family is a little more conservative, but you can always come talk to me or Carole."

"Um, sure."

"I mean it."

Rachel grips the handle of the ice chest with both hands, but the second Quinn sees her with it, she nods to Burt, then quickly takes it from Rachel. "What's in here?"

"Lunch. Asian chicken salad and sparkling water. Mine has chicken substitute."

"Of course it does." Quinn leads Rachel toward the break room and holds the door open for her.

"You realize that I'm going to have to pay you back for this lesson with another lunch, tomorrow."

"I guess I'll have to learn to deal with it."

Once they're in the breakroom, Quinn sets the ice chest on a vacant chair and when she lets go, she looks down and says, "Crap, I'm sorry." There's a gray handprint wrapped around the white plastic handle of the ice chest. "I wasn't thinking. Um," Quinn waves a greasy hand toward the small counter. "There are wet wipes right there and I'll wash up before I ruin anything else."

"You haven't ruined anything. It should come right off. It's plastic." Rachel retrieves the round container of wet wipes and pulls two from it. The grease wipes right off and the handle looks as good as new. "See?"

Quinn's at the sink, scrubbing her hands with what looks like dish soap. "I've just had to learn the hard way that I need to pay more attention when I'm touching things."

"Is that what you always use?" Rachel asks, peering over Quinn's shoulder.

"This?"Quinn glances at the bottle of Dawn and nods. "Yeah. It's what works best."

"Doesn't it dry out your hands?"

"Well," Quinn inspects her fingers, then her nails, doing another once over before shutting off the water. "Yeah. But then that's what the lotion is for." She rubs a paper towel over her hands, then reaches for a bottle of Vaseline Intensive Care, pumping it into one hand and rubbing it into her skin. Rachel wonders what kind of regimen Quinn uses when she gets home, because someone as refined in the ways of etiquette as Quinn Fabray certainly must have one.

Quinn just stands in the space of the windows room for a moment, then looks at Rachel. "Maybe we could eat outside? This room is... kind of depressing. I usually just sit on that crate out front during lunch, but-"

"-I do think the park across the street is much more appealing."

"Then we'll go to the park."

Once they're settled across from each other at one of the picnic benches, Rachel makes a production of laying out the meal she's prepared. The salads are just in plastic tubs, but the napkins are cloth and the utensils are metal, and Quinn is quick to say that it all isn't necessary but Rachel is just as quick to interject.

"If you're going to be working in a garage all summer, you deserve to have some basic luxuries."

"It's not like I work in a factory," Quinn says. And then she laughs.

"What?"

"The way those coveralls hang on you, you kind of look like a child laborer."

"You're the one who gave them to me." Rachel frowns and busies herself with attempting to unscrew her sparkling water, but then she looks at the cap and realizes it isn't a screw top. "Oh no."

"I didn't want you to get dirty!" Quinn holds her hand out for the bottle and Rachel passes it to her.

"Does your tire gauge double as a bottle opener?"

"No." Quinn places bottle so the teeth of the cap hang on the edge of the table and she slams her hand down on top of it, popping the cap free.

Rachel's impressed. "Is that... something else you learned to do as a Cheerio?"

"No. Well, yeah. But only because Santana taught me."

"Quinn Fabray, you are, without a doubt, the most versatile person I know."

Quinn removes the cap from her own bottle and shoots a disbelieving look at Rachel. "You must not know that many people."

Rachel can't particularly argue with that point, though she know more people than she did two years ago. She slips a bendy straw into each of the beverages and allows a comfortable silence to settle over them as they eat.

Or, it's silent until Rachel feels the need to tell a story. "My dads are big fans of eating outdoors when the weather is nice, so we have a picnic table on our deck. But then Dad spends half the meal running inside to get something he forgot."

"My mom loves to barbecue. Actually, she loves anything to do with preparing meats for human consumption. It's too bad you don't eat it, because she's really good at it." Quinn points at her salad bowl with her fork. "This is really good, too."

"It's Daddy's recipe and, to be honest, it was left over from what we made for dinner last night."

"It's still... very nice of you to bring me lunch." Quinn takes a long sip of her drink and, as she sets the bottle down, she asks, "Why'd you kiss me in the garage?"

Things have been so pleasant between them, Rachel's almost forgotten that their more affectionate interactions are still without any actual merit. "I... I was..." She purses her lips and settles on, "You kissed me first."

"That's... fair. And I don't even know why... I mean, I don't know. Finn was just irritating me by... I guess, existing."

"So, you did it to make him jealous?" Rachel's fairly sure this isn't accurate, but she also isn't sure what other word to use.

Quinn's quiet for a moment. "... maybe. But I think it was more about..." She shrugs. "Why'd you kiss me today?"

"I wanted to see if it felt the same," Rachel admits.

"Did you feel something the first time?" Quinn asks.

Rachel's sitting across from Quinn at a picnic table in the park, on a summer afternoon. Really, she could be anywhere, doing anything with her free time and she's here. "Did you?"

Quinn rolls her eyes and laughs. "Seriously? Are you just going to keep answering with questions?"

"Maybe?" Rachel bites her lip to keep from smiling, then takes in a breath so she can give Quinn an honest reply. "The first time caught me off guard and I knew it was because of Finn. So, I thought that maybe, if he wasn't around and it happened again, I'd be able to know if..."

Quinn's holding her water bottle and flexing the straw back and forth. "If what?"

Rachel's a little embarrassed, because she genuinely isn't sure what the answer is. She does, however, know something else. "You kissed me back. The second time."

Quinn nods, but her mouth twists with disappointment. "Does it really matter? You aren't... and I'm not..." She runs a hand through her hair with one hand and pokes the fork at her salad with the other.

"Of course it matters!" Rachel's a little offended that Quinn is so quick to write this off, because they've just barely begun to uncover whatever it is that's happening. "And, while I don't think it's particularly crucial, because I happen to believe that sexuality is fluid, if your concern is that I'm not open to same-sex attraction, I'll have you know that my Kinsey rating is two point four. Though, I do expect that to shift into three once I'm in college and gain more practical experience." Quinn has her eyes closed with a pained expression on her face, so Rachel assumes she needs to clarify, even more. "Anything within the range of point zero to two point nine suggests I am predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual. A rating within three point zero to three point nine is equally heterosexual and homosexual, or bisex-"

"I know what it means."

"Oh. You just looked as if maybe you weren't underst-"

"I get it."

"If you'd like, I can link you to the test so you can calculate your own score."

"That won't be necessary."

Rachel sighs and stares down at her chicken substitute. "I'm sorry, that was probably too much information all at once. It's certainly not a rarity for me to over share."

"It's fine." Quinn takes another bite of salad and it's back to silence between them, though it's less comfortable than before.

"You really aren't curious to know where you fall on the scale?"

"I'm not, no."

"Okay." Rachel's lost this one and she isn't even sure why she's so adamant about making Quinn take the stupid Kinsey ratings test. She knows that it doesn't even matter, because people aren't just numbers.

"I mean," Quinn sets her fork down and rests her hands on the picnic table. "I'm not curious, because I already took it."

"Oh!" Rachel tries not to look too curious about the result, but she's positive she absolutely fails at it.

"... four... point nine."

It takes everything Rachel has not to blurt out that it means Quinn's ranked as predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual. Though, being that close to five, she's really only incidentally heterosexual. And none of this has been apparent in Quinn's selection of suitors over the last couple of years.

"That's a different number than I was expecting," Rachel finally says.

Quinn seals the lid around the now empty bowl sealing the fork inside. "I didn't do it to just make him jealous."

Rachel nods and understands that maybe things are a little more complex than they were before they sat down to lunch. Or, at least now the complexity is apparent. But then, maybe they can just keep things simple.

"I think I should stop bringing you half-caf. It's enough for me, but you obviously need the full dose to keep you going."

Quinn's mouth turns up into a small smile. "Maybe tomorrow I'll make you change your own tire."

"I'll get dirty and you said you don't want that."

"It's okay if you're still wearing the street urchin suit." Quinn reaches over and tugs on the rolled sleeve of the coveralls.

"You know I'm just going to call you if something happens to my car, right?" Rachel twists her arm, but doesn't move it away from Quinn's hand. Instead, her hand now rests on Quinn's forearm and she doesn't want to move it.

"What if your phone doesn't work?" Quinn's hand shifts so that it slides down Rachel's arm until it rests under Rachel's palm.

"Smoke signal."

An eyebrow arches. "You know how to start a fire?"

"My car has a cigarette lighter."

"No, it doesn't." Quinn shakes her head.

"It does! It's under the stereo. I plug my iPod into it to charge all the time."

"Right, but there's no lighter in it."

Rachel narrows her eyes, but it's difficult yo even feign anger when her hand is wrapped around Quinn's. "Then I guess I'll have to come back for another lesson tomorrow."

"Guess so."

There is something that concerns Rachel, though. "I'm not going to get you in trouble, am I? With Burt?"

"I don't think so. Didn't you ever hang around the shop while Finn was..." Quinn trails off. "I'll make sure it's okay. If you really want to stop by tomorrow."

Rachel did used to hang around while Finn picked up weekend shifts for extra money, but she didn't really express the same interest she has when she's with Quinn. "I do."

There's a squeeze around her fingers and it's obvious that the interest she has when she's with Quinn isn't just about the garage. In fact, it's not even about the garage, at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Day three is Friday and Rachel's at the garage by eight-forty, but the large rolling door is already open when she parks in front of the building. Quinn, however, is outside, leaning against the side of the building, hands in her pockets as she watches Rachel exits her car with two cups of coffee in hand.

"Good morning," Rachel says, holding out the cup that has a Q scrawled on the lid.

"Morning," Quinn replies, accepting the coffee. After a sip, she looks down at it, then at Rachel.

"This tastes different."

"It's the same thing, just full caffeine. I don't think you can taste the difference in that, can you?" Rachel tastes her own, but it's the same thing she always drinks, so why would it be any different?

Quinn drinks again and shakes her head. "No... it's... wait. Did you have them put soy in it?"

"No, it's regular two per... cent. Oh."

"I actually think I prefer the soy milk." Quinn shrugs and continues to sip the beverage, despite whatever her preferences might be.

"I'll remember that for Monday."

"Rachel, you don't have to keep bringing me coffee. Or lunch. I mean, I like spending time with you, but you don't have to keep being the one to... do everything."

"I suppose I'm just used to taking initiative."

"So am I," Quinn says, though it's quiet. "Which," she says, speaking up. "Is why I'd like it if you'd let me take you to dinner tonight. If you don't have other plans."

Did Quinn just ask her out? "I don't have other plans." Rachel feels giddy, almost bouncy, but she wills herself to be still, because she doesn't want to appear overeager.

"Okay." Quinn smiles behind her coffee cup as she says, "I'm off at five and I'll need to shower and everything. So... seven? I can pick you up."

Rachel leans against the wall next to Quinn. "Where are we going for dinner?"

"It depends. What's for lunch?"

"Vegetarian meatloaf sandwiches."

"Is that even a thing?"

"I guess you'll have to find out at lunch."

"Guess so." Quinn eyes seem to be all over Rachel, particularly her dress. It's actually one she's had for a while, a navy blue short-sleeved number with white polka dots. "I've always liked this one," Quinn says. "Looks good on you."

"... thank you." It's suddenly difficult for Rachel to look up and her cheeks feel warm as she finally does, because she catches Quinn's eyes and there's a moment of intensity she isn't expecting.

And then she's met with a grin that Quinn flashes at her before she pushes up off the wall. "I should get to work. But... I'm sure you're going to show up here with your fictional vegetarian meatloaf in a few hours."

"I don't have to bring it." Rachel says, turning to watch Quinn walk toward the garage entrance.

"But you will."

Already, the banter has Rachel feeling bubbly inside and she knows the afternoon won't come soon enough, but then Quinn waves at her, just barely, with the tips of her fingers and the second she's out of sight, Rachel leans her full weight against the wall. She has no idea how this actually happened, but she's fairly certain she's terribly smitten with Quinn Fabray.

It being summer, Rachel's schedule is much more open than it is during the school year. Monday and Wednesday afternoons, she has private voice lessons, and on Tuesday mornings she takes advanced ballet at the community center, but this is Friday and on Fridays in the summer, most private community instructors seem to want to claim a three day weekend to spend with their families. Which is to say that on this Friday morning at ten am, Rachel's at the mall, killing time before she has lunch with Quinn.

She's browsing the shelves in Bath and Body Works when she hears, "You need to spill it and do not leave out any details."

Kurt is on her left while Blaine's on her right and they're both looking at her, expectantly. Or, they are until Blaine is distracted by a tub of jasmine vanilla body scrub.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rachel says.

"We heard a rumor that you've been- Ooh, smell this," Blaine holds the body scrub out to Rachel. As she sniffs it, he continues, "-fraternizing with a certain lady mechanic."

"That's... oh, I like that," Rachel says, passing the scrub to Kurt. "And if you're talking about me spending time with Quinn, I don't see why that's of interest to anyone."

Kurt examines the price tag on the jar then screws the cap back on before he drops it into the basket that's looped over his arm. "Finn has been moping around the house for the past thirty-six hours and, finally, this morning, while I had a virgin mimosa and poached eggs, he tells me over this bowl of Wheaties that he saw you and Quinn engaged in a steamy lip-lock in front of my father's garage."

Rachel casually looks over the label on a plastic jar of 60-Second Manicure Hand Scrub. "I don't know that I would classify it as steamy. And I still don't understand how it's anyone's business."

"Isn't a virgin mimosa just orange juice?" Blaine asks.

Kurt whips around to face her so quickly that his basket knocks into a display of loofah sponges. "Oh my god, so it's true!"

"It's..." Rachel's trying so hard not to smile, because she knows it will just feed Kurt's gossip frenzy, but it's impossible not to do when she's thinking of Quinn.

"Oh, honey," Blaine says, slipping his arm through hers. "You need to tell us all about it. Is she a good kisser? Is she a better kisser than I am?"

"We so do not need to commemorate your brief flirtation with bisexuality-"

"Maybe I was just Rachel-sexual." Blaine pats Rachel's arm. "Maybe Quinn's Rachel-sexual. Because she really never struck me as being anything other than straight. Though, she does have an incredibly firm handshake."

"Seriously, Rachel, Blaine's right. I mean, all you two have ever done is fight over the same hunk of testosterone, on and off, for the last couple of years and, oh my god, this is all coming together like a lesbian Lifetime movie."

Rachel places the hand scrub in her own basket, then she turns to face both of the boys, head on. "However Quinn and I choose to spend our summer is our business. If Finn is upset about anything, he can speak with me about it, but it really has nothing at all to do with him."

Blaine and Kurt immediately merge together to close the space between them that Rachel left behind. Kurt peers at the collection of items in Rachel's basket, which contains the scrub, along with a variety of lotions and a nail brush. "Taking a particular interest in hand care, are we?" He smirks and Blaine's eyes widen in amusement.

"Enjoy your shopping, gentlemen." Rachel pushes past them to move for the checkout counter.

"Aw, are we supposed to get them a card or something?" she hears Blaine ask.

"No," Kurt replies. "Lesbians prefer small appliances, I think. I'll have to look it up."

Despite the gay-tervention from Kurt and Blaine, Rachel's glad that they both seem to be supportive, in their own way. It also reminds her that there's another Hummel she'd like to speak with, so she shows up even earlier than usual for lunch with Quinn to stop by the tire shop's office.

"Well, hey, two days in a row!" Burt smiles at her from behind the desk, where it looks like he's sorting through paperwork. "I hope this doesn't mean there's something else wrong with the car. Quinn gave it a pretty thorough inspection."

"Oh, the car is fine. Quinn has been more than adequate in ensuring my automotive safety." Rachel places a plastic food container on the desk. "Vegetarian meatloaf. And my father insists that with enough ketchup, you can't even tell it's meatless. I thought it was only right, since I monopolized Quinn's morning yesterday."

"I hadn't even realized that, but I'm not about to argue with anything homemade when all I have here are some frozen Healthy Choice junk Carole keeps buying just to make sure I'm not loading up on triple meat subs from the shop around the corner." He graciously accepts the food and, as he opens the lid, he looks up at her. "Anything else on your mind?"

"Well," Rachel takes that as an invitation to sit in the folding chair that's in front of the desk. "I know that I haven't been part of the Hummel-Hudson dynamic since Finn and I-"

"Rachel," Burt leans forward and pushes his baseball cap back. "You've been Kurt's friend for a long time and I know you two are talking about this New York thing together, so as far as I'm concerned, you're still part of the Hummel-Hudson family. You don't have to be dating Finn for that to happen."

That gives Rachel a warm, secure feeling and she smiles at Burt, offering a soft, "Thank you." She folds her hands in her lap as she considers what it even is that she wants to talk about.

Burt seems to pick up on her hesitation. "You know, when Kurt was first wanting to talk to me about... his stuff... he thought I wouldn't understand. Even though I've always been there for him and supported him and bought him that sewing machine he wanted for his thirteenth birthday, I guess he was still a little nervous about talking to his dad about what he was going through. Maybe that applies to anyone, no matter how much your brain knows your parents will probably understand, it's hard to talk to them about certain stuff. And I don't really know what's happening here, but I do know that you can probably talk to yours about anything, the same way Kurt could always talk to me, even when he felt like he couldn't."

Rachel nods, because he's absolutely right. "May I ask you something, anyway?"

"Sure."

"How would you feel if Kurt came home and told you he had feelings for someone who used to... well, bully him?"

"You mean like the jerks who used to throw him in the dumpster and knock him around in the halls?" There's a slight rise in Burt's voice, but it quickly vanishes. "I know Finn used to be one of those guys, at least in part, and I also know he's a good kid who made some dumb choices. But he's also grown up since then. People can learn. I didn't always used to be the most educated guy when it came to the gay stuff and I know I said some things I'd rather not ever repeat again."

"So, you believe people can change."

Burt considers that for a moment, then says, "I think people can stop being so scared of what they don't know that they let themselves be who they really are."

When Rachel finally leaves Burt to his meatless meatloaf, it's nearly one and Quinn's already scrubbing at the shop sink. When she reaches for the paper towels, she notices Rachel and flashes her a grin.

"Hey. Did you want to go to the park, again?"

"Yes, please." Rachel realizes it's only the second day in a row that they've had a place to go, but she already likes the idea of a routine and a place that's theirs. "Um, but before we head over there, I have a present for you."

"Are we celebrating something?" Quinn asks. "Because I didn't get you anything."

"I was just out and saw something I thought you could use." Rachel opens the back door of her car, where the same ice chest sits in the backseat, but there's also a gift bag resting on the floor. She picks it up and hands it to Quinn.

"This feels like it has a lot in it." Quinn looks through the same assortment of lotions, the hand scrub, and the nail brush Rachel bought at the mall.

"I thought that you could... well..." Rachel didn't fully consider how Quinn might interpret all of this until right now, as she watches her dig through the contents of the bag. "Your hands are important."

"They are, yeah." Quinn fights an obvious smile and Rachel immediately knows that this is all okay.

"Are you ready for vegetarian meatloaf?"

"So, you brought a bunch nothing?"

"It's real and you're going to love it."

"Tolerate, maybe."

"You have no idea what you're in for, Quinn."

"Yeah, I can tell."


	4. Chapter 4

They've barely been sitting at the picnic table for ten minutes when Quinn finishes her sandwich. Rachel doesn't say anything, but she makes absolutely no effort to hide her amusement.

Quinn looks over at Rachel's plate and realizes there's half a sandwich sitting there. "I... we were out of granola, so all I had was yogurt, this morning."

"Told you you'd love it." Rachel takes a small bite and does her best not to look entirely smug.

Across the table, Quinn rests her head on her hand and sips the ginger ale that Rachel's provided for this particular picnic. "You still want to go tonight, right?"

"Of course I do!" Rachel's so quick to answer, she has to cover her mouth with her napkin, because she's still trying to chew. "My mind certainly hasn't changed from a few hours ago."

"Okay," Quinn nods and sets her soda down.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"I can tell you it's not Breadstix."

Rachel honestly doesn't even care where they end up but she's pleased to know that Quinn is, perhaps, more inventive that just about anyone else who's ever taken anyone on a date in Lima. "Is there a dress code?"

"What you're wearing is absolutely fine."

"I may take it upon myself to change, anyway. A lady never passes up a chance to flaunt her wardrobe. Or, that's what Kurt says."

That gets a laugh out of Quinn. "I'm pretty sure I have an idea what most of your wardrobe is like."

"I know everyone like to tease me, but I do not wear animal sweaters and knee socks nearly as much as people care to insist. In fact, I'm fairly certain you and I own at least two nearly identical cardigans." Rachel's finished with her sandwich, even though almost half of it remains, and she neatly folds her napkin before placing it on the table.

Quinn's eyebrow pushes upward. "Are you finished?"

"I've just never understood why particular elements of my apparel are such a focal point."

"I meant," Quinn reaches over and taps the rim of Rachel's plate. "Are you finished with this?"

Rachel glances down. "Oh. Yes. Are you still hungry?" Quinn responds with a half shrug and a sheepish smile, so Rachel pushes the plate toward her.

"People say things about it because you don't care. And because you can pull off just about anything with those legs." Quinn stuffs the sandwich in her mouth and it sure seems like she's trying to stop herself from talking.

Rachel makes a mental note to remember this when she selects her outfit for tonight.

She's studying the contents of her closet, later that afternoon, when she hears the front door open and shut, followed by the sound of her fathers laughing with each other.

"Rachel?" Hiram calls from downstairs. "Are you home?"

"Be right down!" she replies.

She finds them in the kitchen, unloading grocery bags and she's quick to join them in putting everything away.

Leroy puts a hand on her shoulder as he reaches up to place something on a shelf above her head. "We were thinking about a south of the border kind of menu, this evening. Guacamole, fajitas, rice and beans... what do you think?"

"I actually..." Rachel really hates disappointing her fathers, in any capacity. "I have plans tonight."

Hiram tosses Leroy a bag of limes. "Well, it looks like we're on our own for our Friday Fiesta. Is this another sleepover with Kurt and Mercedes?"

"No, it's just a dinner date." She realizes, after the fact, that using the four letter "d" word is going to result in more questions.

Leroy looks at his husband, then at his daughter. "A date?"

"In the loosest use of the word, Daddy. We're just having dinner." But she knows that isn't true, because she's been debating about what to wear ever since she left the tire shop.

"Is this casual outing with a young man we already know?" Hiram asks. "Because if it's a particularly tall ex-boyfriend of yours, I'd like to-"

"Hi," Leroy shakes his head. "You're going to scare her into never bringing any of her suitors to the house."

"It's not Finn." She doesn't miss the way her dad seems to sigh in relief. "It actually isn't any kind of gentleman caller." And before they can ask, she says, "It's Quinn Fabray."

"Oh! So you're just going out to dinner with Quinn." Hiram returns to his task of placing produce into the proper refrigerator drawer.

Leroy, on the other hand, is still considering what Rachel's just told them. "No, honey, I think she's going on a casual dinner outing that is, in the loosest use of the word, a date. With Quinn."

"Didn't we have leftovers from last ni- Oh my god," Hiram immediately stands back up and turns, letting the fridge fall shut behind him. "I did the thing we swore we would never do. I made an assumption based on gender." His shoulders sag as he looks at Rachel. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I wasn't thinking. I've just become so accustomed to you being moderately boy-crazy that I didn't-"

"It's okay, I promise. And, I'm not even certain if this is an official date. She just asked me, over coffee this morning, if I'd like to join her for dinner tonight."

"Didn't you say Quinn works at Burt Hummel's tire shop?" Leroy asks.

Rachel nods. "Yes. That's where we had coffee. And... I've been taking our leftovers to her for lunch the last couple of days."

"Is that why there was a pair of coveralls in the laundry? I thought maybe you kids were doing a Grease number, but then I remembered you don't have glee club during the summer."

"Quinn's clothes were in your laundry?" Leroy's expression is pure shock.

"No, Daddy, she loaned them to me when she was showing me how to change a tire."

It's Hiram's turn to look surprised. "You were... learning how to change a tire?"

Rachel nods. "She's very adamant about me not getting stuck on the side of the road."

"How long have you been hanging around the garage with her?" asks Leroy.

"Since Wednesday."

"And what time are you meeting for dinner?"

"She's picking me up at seven."

Leroy nods and folds up the reusable grocery bag that's now empty. "So, you're going out to dinner with the girl you've been feeding our leftovers to for the last two days, she's concerned with your safety, now that I think about the conversation we had on Wednesday, she gave you what was nearly a fifty percent discount on an oil change for absolutely no real reason."

Nothing about what he's saying is inaccurate, so Rachel's reply is, "Yes."

"Well, then, I think your father and I would agree that we would, in the loosest sense of the term, like to give her the third degree when she gets here."

Hiram gently swats at Leroy's arm. "Now who's scaring her? He just means we'd like to say hello."

Rachel remembers the first time they "said hello" to Finn. It took almost half an hour and Finn was sweating the entire time. But, she knows her dads only have her best interest at heart. "Okay. But I'm going to at least prepare her, so she isn't completely blindsided."

"That takes half of the fun out of it!" Hiram teases, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders. He kisses the top of her head before he releases her. "Now that I think about it, we probably interrupted your date night prep, so get out of here."

It sometimes a little unnerving how well her dads understand her, even when she doesn't fully understand herself.

When Quinn arrives, she's actually fifteen minutes early, as per Rachel's advisement, given that there's now a parental meeting on the agenda.

The second the doorbell chimes, Rachel is already halfway down the stairs, because she saw Quinn's car out the window of her bedroom. "I'll get it!" she shouts, even though she knows her fathers are well aware that she's expecting someone. They're all expecting the same someone.

Before she opens the front door, Rachel takes a moment to compose herself. She adjusts her headband and smooths her skirt. After all of the deliberation from earlier, she's settled on her gray pleated linen skirt, the one with the soft black belt that ties into a bow on the front, because it's a little more elegant than her plaid skirts, but still shows plenty of leg. As usual, it's paired with her black and white polka-dot shirt. She considered knee-high socks, but it's summer and it's warm out, so the white ankle socks and black loafers she's chosen are much more practical.

When she pulls the door open, she's met with the sight of Quinn standing on her porch. And, even though she's seen Quinn twice already today, this is a completely different look than the one she's grown accustomed to seeing all week.

Her short blonde hair is clipped away from her face with a single barrette and everything about it is smoother and much more tamed that it is at the garage. Quinn's wearing a simple white summer dress, one Rachel knows she's seen a dozen times, along with a light blue short-sleeved cardigan similar to one she owns herself. Everything about her look is delicate and refined, but then it's rounded out with a pair of brown leather boots that hit just below Quinn's knees that kind of makes Rachel think that if they had to escape via horse or motorbike then Quinn would be a hundred percent prepared, either way.

Of course, Quinn always seems to be prepared for anything. Including this mild interrogation by her fathers.

But maybe Rachel should say hello, first.

"Hi."

"Hi," Quinn echoes, twisting a little as she stands with her hands clasped in front of her. "You look..." She nods.

Rachel smiles. "So do you." She laughs at herself. "Please, come in." She knows her dads are waiting in the living room, so she feels it's necessary to say, "I'm sorry about this part. I tried to explain to them that this isn't-"

"-isn't what?" Quinn asks, searching Rachel's face.

"It isn't..." But Rachel doesn't even believe it herself. "Is it?" The entry was suddenly feels much larger than it physically can be, because all Rachel sees is Quinn looking at her, one eyebrow slightly elevated.

"It's-"

"Rachel?" calls Leroy from the other room.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Is Quinn here?"

"Hello, Mr. Berry," Quinn replies, then taking one last moment alone with Rachel to lean over and whisper, "It definitely is."

Quinn handles Rachel's fathers beautifully. She's polite, she's poised, she's perfect. None of that comes as a surprise, really.

When Hiram asks where Quinn's taking Rachel, the response is, "Well, that was actually going to be a surprise. But there's a new Asian fusion place on the north side of town that's supposed to have the best grilled tofu anywhere in Lima."

If that answer doesn't convince her dads that Quinn Fabray is an attentive enough potential suitor, then Rachel doesn't know what will. It seems that it's possible Leroy agrees, because he nods and says, "You ladies have a good night. And Rachel, you need to be back by midnight."

"I know, Daddy." That's actually an hour later than they ever let her stay out with Finn, though that was also six months ago and she was still only fifteen at the time.

In the car, Rachel hums along to Florence and the Machine while Quinn backs out of the driveway.

"What's the easiest way to Elm Street from here?" Quinn asks, once they're at the end of Rachel's block.

"Left and then after two block, make a right." Rachel feels fidgety, like she wants to poke around at everything in Quinn's car to learn anything she can about her. But that would be rude and invasive. "I've been wanting to go to this place, ever since I read a review about it on the Lima Times food blog."

"I'm pretty sure I read the same piece on it. Though, that was after I googled the best vegetarian places to eat in Lima," Quinn admits.

"We could have gone anywhere, you know."

"I don't want to take you just anywhere."

Rachel has not idea what the full intent behind that statement is, but she likes it. "Well, I certainly appreciate your willingness to delve into vegetarian cuisine. Not everyone is open to tofu."

"Please, I've eaten so much low-fat, low-carb, no-taste stuff over the years... there are plenty of things way worse than tofu. I don't think I could cut out meat, entirely. Not while I'm still living with my mother, anyway. She'd be devastated. But I'm into eating right and staying balanced and that sandwich today was kind of incredible, so..."

"And here I thought you were just really hungry because you barely ate breakfast."

"Shut up." Quinn shakes her head, but she's also laughing. Or she is until there's a low rumble from underneath them and then flapping sound that slows as Quinn pulls over to the side of the road. "You have got to be kidding me."

"What? What happened? Is everything okay?"

"I think," Quinn sighs, "that I just got a flat tire."

"Oh no! But, well, at least we're prepared for it. Or, you are."

"Yeah, I guess." Quinn turns off the engine and opens her door, getting out to walk around and look at the car.

Rachel rolls down her window and leans out of it, looking first at the front, then at the rear passenger tire. Even though she's not even an amateur automotive enthusiast, she can tell that the back tire is deflated. She joins Quinn outside the car and stares down at the wheel, trying to recall what Quinn told her about this, yesterday. Was that only yesterday? It feels like it was days ago, now.

Something quickly dawns on her, because she is, after all, dealing with Quinn. "This isn't a test, is it? To see if I was listening?"

"What?" Quinn covers her face with her hand. "No. Rachel. Oh god, I wouldn't do that." Her arm drops and she draws in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "But I guess we're changing a tire." She shrugs out of her cardigan and tosses it into the backseat of the car.

Immediately, all Rachel can think about is how Quinn's wearing a white dress and, as good as she might be at this, there's no way it's coming out of this completely unscathed. "Do you at least have anything else in the car to wear?"

"No, it's Friday, so my coveralls are in the laundry." Quinn pops open the trunk and begins to dig around for what she needs.

"My dads thought the pair you loaned me were actually yours and Daddy looked like his head was about to explode."

"Why would he care if you were wearing my coveralls?"

"I think he assumed you would have been wearing them."

Quinn pauses, tire iron in hand, and lifts her head. "He thought we..."

"I'm not sure what he thought, but he certainly assumed something."

There's light laughter from Quinn for a brief moment, but then she's slamming around the contents of her trunk. "Oh, come on!"

Rachel's not sure if she should engage the raging Quinn or remain where she is. "What's wrong?"

"The jack isn't in here. I took it out to do something for my mom last week and I forgot to put it back." Quinn rubs a hand through her hair and quietly curses. "Shit."

"Is there someone we can call?"

"I don't need help, I just need a jack."

"Quinn," Rachel gives up on hanging back and approaches the other girl, gently resting her hands on Quinn's upper arms. "I'm just as anxious to get to our dinner plans as you are. But we can't get there if we don't call someone, at least to get the jack."

It takes a moment, but Quinn resigns and nods. "Puck. He always has one in his truck."

"Okay, so we call Noah and get this fixed, then we pick up right where we left off."

Again, a nod from Quinn. "Rachel?"

"What?"

"You haven't kissed me, yet, today."

Rachel's breath catches, because she's been wondering if it was going to happen, especially given their plans for the evening. "That's because it's your turn."

She expecting a witty reply or a sarcastic remark, but she's met with Quinn tipping her head down and their lips pressing together. It's not a complete surprise to one of them like it has been both of the other times, so when it happens, Rachel lets her lips part in hopes that Quinn will do that thing with her tongue, again. When she does, when their tongues brush against each other, Rachel hears a light sound from her own throat and she feels almost dizzy with delight.

Quinn's hands are firmly holding on to her waist and Rachel knows she's a hundred percent secure, even though they're on the side of the road with a flat tire on a summer night. Maybe it isn't the ideal beginning to a date, but it's turning out to be pretty great, so far.


	5. Chapter 5

**I need a jack and I need it ASAP.**

**i thot u nvr sext ppl**

**Shut up. I have a flat tire and no jack. Can you help me or not?**

**ya wher r u?**

**Main and Pearl. In the lot by the golf shop.**

**r u alone?**

**Seriously Puck, I'm not screwing around!**

**i jst ment b safe! :P i cn b ther n 15**

**Oh. No, I have someone with me. **  
**Thank you.**

**np**

Rachel's sitting sideways in the passenger seat of Quinn's Volkswagen, her legs hanging out the open door. Quinn leans her left shoulder against the car, angled toward Rachel as she finally lowers her phone and stuffs it her dress pocket.

"I'm sorry this is, like, the worst."

"Quinn, it's gorgeous out and we get to watch the sun set over the..." Rachel squints into the sunset to see what building is to the west of them. "What is that?"

"Um, I think it's the DMV?"

"Well, it's certainly the most romantic view of the Department of Motor Vehicles I've ever experienced." Rachel casually reaches for Quinn's hand and rubs her thumb over the backs of Quinn's fingers. Her skin is soft for someone who works with grease and washes with her hands dish soap, multiple times a day.

"I used that scrub you gave me," Quinn says. "And I'm always going through lotion like crazy, so the fact that you brought me four bottles... it was a good call."

"What made you even consider working there? I know you said you have some experience and it pays better than other jobs around town, but... someone like you has a wide variety of options."

Quinn scoffs, lightly, as she replies, "You'd think so, right?" She shrugs. "I knew Burt was holding a spot for Finn, but Finn didn't want it. It was something I hadn't really conquered, yet, and I like knowing how to do things so that I don't have to rely on other people. Which..." She throws a look down at the flat tire. "I guess you can't always get around that."

Rachel tightens her fingers around Quinn's hand. "I think you have a few people you can always rely on, Quinn."

"I know, I know," Quinn sighs. "Puck will always be there, because of Beth. He's... we don't talk that often, but I know he'd probably throw himself to a horde of zombies for me, if it meant saving me. But then, I think he'd probably for that for anyone he considers a friend."

"Only after taking several off them down with, what does he call it, his sweet ninja moves?" Rachel asks.

Quinn laughs. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I think I could probably expect the same from Sam, too."

Rachel's always wondered about Quinn's friendships, because, for someone so popular by high school standards, she seems like a lonely person, a lot of the time. "What about Mercedes?"

"I don't know if she has any ninja moves," Quinn replies. "But she could probably hold her own."

"I meant, she's someone you can rely on, isn't she? You two are friends."

Quinn nods. "We are, but we... I guess we just have our own circles. But if I ever ended up... homeless, again, I'd like to think she'd be there for me."

"Do you... is that something you worry about?" Rachel knows Quinn's family is very religious and given the way they responded to the pregnancy, she's suddenly very concerned about something else. "Is this," she squeezes Quinn's hand, "something that would risk getting you kicked out?"

Quinn's brow furrows as she looks down at their joined hands. "Would..." Her eyes widen in realization. "Oh!" She actually laughs a little before she shakes her head. "No, it wouldn't be an issue. My uncle, my mom's brother, he's... well, gay."

Rachel's surprised, but as she considers the way Quinn has always been supportive of Kurt and, more recently, Santana, it's not all that shocking. "So, your mother..."

"She would be okay with the me being... with the idea of me dating a girl, yeah." Quinn shifts her hand in Rachel's so their fingers lock together. "Actually, and this is kind of embarrassing and probably not ideal conversation for a first date, but whatever... um, she thought that Santana and I were..."

Rachel's intrigued. "What? When?"

"After our trip to New York. I was a complete mess after everything with Finn and she was still moping over Brittany. She still is, but it was worse then. Anyway, she was over a lot and my mom's not totally oblivious and she always knew there was something up with Britt and San. So when Santana was coming over without Brittany and staying the night, I guess she just thought we were..." Quinn shrugs.

"But... you weren't." Rachel just wants clarification that she's interpreting the story correctly.

"Oh my god, no. No. That's... okay, that would be like trying to get Edward Cullen's attention while he's sitting outside Bella's window." Quinn lightly tugs on Rachel's hand. "Santana and I have never been anything more than catty friends who stay up eating Ben and Jerry's and watching Project Runway until three in the morning." She leans down into the space of the car. "Outside of a game of truth or dare, there's only one girl I've ever kissed."

Rachel may be the only girl Quinn's ever kissed, but she's very, very good at it.

Twenty minutes later, Rachel is sitting in the cab of Noah's truck watching Quinn reluctantly stand back while Noah does the dirty work of changing the tire. Even he seemed to understand that, as much as Quinn values her independence, she'd be, "pissed as hell if she ruined that nice-ass dress." His words.

"I love watching him work." Lauren's eyes are on Noah and she actually has a bucket of movie theater popcorn sitting in her lap as she watches him wrestle with the tire. "Wait... here it comes." As soon as he bends down, Lauren nods and crunches on a piece of popcorn. "Yes."

While Rachel can appreciate Lauren's motivation, she isn't as titillated by the show. Or, not by the same parts of it that Lauren is. She does, however, find herself watching the way Quinn keeps impatiently shuffling, her hands on her hips, occasionally pointing at something and presumably cursing under her breath. Finally, she throws her hands in the air and walks over to the truck, reaching through the passenger side window to grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket.

"He told me that if I don't leave him alone, he's taking the jack and the spare and letting me walk home."

"He told me that if I don't leave him alone, he's taking the jack and the spare and letting me walk home." She leans over to look past Lauren and catches Rachel's gaze. "He did offer to drive you home, though. So, you're safe."

"That's sweet of him, but I'd rather not leave you to walk home alone."

"Who's walking? I'm calling a cab and billing him." Quinn pops a kernel into her mouth and Rachel doesn't even realize she staring at Quinn's mouth until Lauren shakes the bucket in front of her.

"If you want some, take it."

"I..." From behind Lauren, Rachel sees Quinn looking back at her and, this time, she very slowly and deliberately brings a single piece of popcorn to her lips before placing it on her tongue. "Um."

Lauren raises her hand in front of Quinn's face. "Okay, I'm not about to get caught up in your lesbian eye-fucking crossfire."

Quinn swats at Lauren's arm. "No one's eye-fucking!"

Rachel's pretty sure she's never once heard Quinn use such profanity and, as vulgar as it is, it does invoke a particular sense of taboo delight. "Maybe I should see if Noah needs assistance."

"I can ask-"

"No way, Fabray. You're staying here, because I have so many questions for you." Lauren has a grasp on Quinn's arm, so Rachel takes advantage of the opportunity and slips out of the cab.

"Quinn, I told you if y- Oh, hey. I thought you were the queen bee coming to buzz at me about what I'm doing wrong. It's like," he grunts as he twists one of the bolts into place, "she thinks I've never changed a damn tire before."

"She wouldn't have even called you if she really thought you we incapable. You should know that, by now."

"Yeah, that's true. And I've learned that if Quinn's not arguing with you at some point, you're not worth her time."

Rachel considers all the arguments she's had with Quinn, over time. Noah's wisdom, while often rudimentary, is also fairly accurate. "She and I have been arguing less, but I think that just means we're understanding each other better."

"By arguing less, you mean making out?"

"Noah!"

"Is that a no?" Rachel doesn't answer, but that just results in him looking up at her with a wolfish grin. "Not a no." He shakes his head and returns to locking the final lug nut into place. "Damn, that's hot."

"We aren't making out."

"Oh? Too bad. And, anyway, you totally are, in my head."

"We're going to dinner and... I'm only telling you this because you're my friend and I know you can keep a secret... while we haven't made out, we've kissed a few times."

He's finished with the tire, so he stands up and looks at Rachel. "So, you two are..."

"Running late for our date."

"Well, then I'll be quick." He leans a little closer. "Quinn's like family to me. We're a screwed up family and she barely talks to me, but you don't need that many words when you've shared something like we have. I'm there for her when she needs shit and I know she'd help me out if something serious happened like if I had a tumor or got my ear bitten off in a fight club match. But you're also a badass in my book, someone who actually showed me I can be more than just a fuck-up, so this is one of those things where I can't pick a side if something happens and you two have a messy lesbian break up. But I'm here for you. Both of you."

"Thank you, Noah. That's very sweet of you. And I would hug you, but..." Rachel taps the front of his t-shirt, which is now streaked with tire marks and dirt.

"It's okay. I'll just think about you hugging Quinn, later." He winks at her and turns toward the truck. "It's done! And I didn't have a compressor, so this was all brute strength." He flexes one arm and there's a catcall from Lauren paired with an eyeroll from Quinn.

Rachel almost feels like she's on an extremely rugged double date. But she's eager to get back to her single date, because talking to Noah has put images of herself and Quinn in her own mind and she's curious to know if and when any of them are going to become a reality.

During the entire drive to the restaurant, Quinn holds Rachel's hand. Or, she does when she doesn't have to shift. So, it's really probably only about forty percent of the drive. But Rachel's quickly becoming a fan of feeling her fingers laced together with Quinn's.

The car pulls into the parking lot of a strip mall and, there, between Payless Shoe Source and Gamestop is a sign for a restaurant called Chopstix.

"Well, you did say you weren't taking me to Breadstix," Rachel muses. "You would think the greater Lima business coalition would insist on some originality.

Quinn laughs as she parks the car, but as she peers through the windshield she's quick to frown. "I hope they're open."

The lights are on, but the dining room looks to be empty of customers.

"Maybe they have an earlier dinner rush." Rachel opens her door and hopes Quinn follows her.

Quinn does and when they enter the establishment, they're met by an employee in a Chopstix polo shirt who's quick to say, "Dining room's closed."

"It's barely after eight," Quinn says, giving him a stare that Rachel's witnessed Finn receive on a few occasions. "On a Friday."

"We're getting the carpets cleaned."

"On a Friday?" Quinn repeats, arms crossed over herself.

"Yeah. I don't know. It's when the guy could come, I guess. The kitchen is open until nine if you want to order to-go."

Quinn blinks and stares at the ceiling. "This is... god, this is the worst first date."

"It's not. We can go somewhere else," Rachel says.

"I don't want... I wanted to bring you here." Quinn closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. "And... I'll make this work." Her eyes open and she offers Rachel a soft smile. "We'll get take out and I think I have an idea."

They end up on the bleachers at the football field. Even though they're eating out of cardboard containers, Rachel's downloaded candlelight app adds an element of ambiance and in the summer evening air, it's actually incredibly romantic.

"Okay, your turn," Quinn says, dipping her chopsticks into her box of pad thai.

They've been playing a game, which isn't really a game, at all. It's just a back and forth of revelations about themselves. Like, how Quinn used to think the Quaker oats man was George Washington or how Rachel used to write letters to Barbra once a week.

"I..." Rachel thinks as she chews a piece of tofu satay. "Oh, okay. When I was twelve, my cousin Leonard made me watch the Blair Witch Project and I have decided I will never, ever go into the forest."

"So, you'd never go camping."

"No. Because that opens me up to the opportunity for me to become lost and possessed by the spirit of an evil witch ghost."

"Rachel, it wasn't even real!"

"I don't care! It's like Jaws, which my dads love to watch whenever it's on and all it does it make me terrified to ever set foot in the ocean."

"When the Cheerios went to Nationals during freshman year, it was in California. And one of the activities Coach set up for us was a shark cage tour with great whites."

"Wait, so you've..." Rachel shudders at the thought.

Quinn nods. "It wasn't so bad. You're in the cage for a reason. And they just swim in circles around you."

"Quinn! When sharks are circling that means they're about to eat you!"

"Maybe out in the open water, but this was totally safe."

Rachel shakes her head and sets her food down. "No. It's... please never do that again. Or, if you do, don't tell me. It's too stressful."

"Hey," Quinn places her to-go box on the seat next to her and scoots closer to Rachel, putting an arm around her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to freak you out. It was two years ago, okay? And I'm fine. Look," she says, rubbing her hand across her own abdomen. "No shark bites."

"I know you're-" Rachel laughs at her own absurd concern. "I just wouldn't want anything to happen to you. In water or on dry land."

"I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, either," Quinn admits. "I'll avoid the shark cages if you avoid... hmm..."

"Skydiving?"

"We were supposed to do that last year, but then I quit Cheerios."

"Do you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation?"

"I have all kinds of it. That's why I joined the squad in the first place."

"So you could be thrust into harms way at any given turn, it seems."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a little over-dramatic?"

Rachel shakes her head and when Quinn looks like she's about to protest, she adds, "Never a little. I'm absolutely the most dramatic and I own it."

"You really do," Quinn says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Rachel's lips.

With the dinner under the stars and the segue into cuddling that's certainly about to lead to more kissing, Rachel thinks Quinn has a solid grasp on the dramatic, too. Rachel's mouth, however, is too occupied to say anything about it.


	6. Chapter 6

They're back in front of the Berry house by eleven, an hour before Rachel's curfew.

"Do you want to come in for a while? My dads are probably still up, but I can make them promise not to bombard you with questions while we watch television or something."

Quinn smiles and turns in her seat, closing both of her hands around one of Rachel's. "They're really not so bad. I kind of like that they're so involved. But if I come in, I'm probably just going to fall asleep on your couch. Or floor. Or in your entryway."

"I wasn't even thinking. You worked all day and then everything with the tire tonight-"

"To be fair, Puck did all the dirty work with that."

"Yes, but you did all the pointing and gesturing." Rachel reaches her arm out and rests it against the edge of Quinn's seat. Her fingers toy with blonde hair and Rachel scoots a little closer, toward the middle of the car. "I'm sure it was exhausting."

"It's not as easy as it looks." Quinn's voice is softer as she shifts, inching even closer to Rachel.

"I'll bet."

Silence hangs between them and Rachel can clearly hear The Killers on the radio. She's positive that Human is going to be forever etched on this moment in her memory, because Quinn is kissing her again, and it's, by far, the best kiss of the evening.

It starts out simply enough, that basic contact, the pressure of Quinn's lips against her own, then the gentle brush of a tongue against her bottom lip. Rachel's own tongue is eager to meet Quinn's and, just like before, it's a rush that causes a whimper from the back of Rachel's throat. Her hand, the one that was playing with Quinn's hair, is now behind her neck, the same way it was that first time, that morning at the garage. One of Quinn's hands is still laced together with Rachel's, but the other has found it's way to Rachel's cheek, cupping it against a palm, fingertips feather-light against Rachel's skin.

In an instant, there's a shift. And it happens the second Rachel drags her teeth over Quinn's bottom lip.

Quinn's short nails scratch against the back of Rachel's neck and Rachel, having abandoned their handhold, now has her other hand wrapped around Quinn's bicep. Now Quinn's tugging at Rachel's lip with her own teeth and, oh god, that's... Rachel doesn't even know how, but she has Quinn pinned against the driver's side door and their upper bodies are pressed together and-

"Rach-" Quinn pants. "We... we should..."

Rachel nods. "Right. We... uh huh." She does her best to try and sit back up, but Quinn has to help her because, well, gravity.

They end up huddled against each other and Quinn kisses Rachel's ear. "I had a really, really great time tonight."

"Me, too."

"Does that mean you'll let me take you out, again?"

"Maybe I want to take you out." Rachel trails her fingers along Quinn's forearm. "But yes. I would love to go out with you again. Multiple times. Maybe we could do something with weekend?"

Quinn groans. "I have to go to my sister's tomorrow. And Sunday we have a church potluck." There's a change in position and she's looking right at Rachel, brushing aside disheveled bangs. "But I'll text you."

Rachel nods, but she knows she's still showing disappointment with her slumped shoulders. "I guess I did just see you three days in a row."

"If we don't get back too late tomorrow night, maybe I can come by."

"I'd like that." Quinn just holds her there for a few minutes as they listen to the radio, but after the third yawn Rachel hears from her date, she forces herself upright. "You're exhausted and I want you to make it home, so... I guess I should go in."

"I'll walk you up."

"You don't ha-"

Quinn laughs against Rachel's lips as she pulls back. "But I want to."

When they reach the porch, Rachel can tell the television is still on in the living room, so she knows her dads are still up. She wonders if they're aware how long she and Quinn have been out front.

There's one more kiss, but it's sweet and simple. Rachel doesn't think she'll ever forget the way Quinn looks the moment she steps back, bottom lip between her teeth and she's illuminated by the porch light.

"Goodnight, Quinn."

"Goodnight, Rachel." Quinn waits until Rachel actually starts to open the door before she steps down off the porch. About halfway down the walk, she turns and waves. "Bye."

Rachel waves back and it's all so ridiculous and silly, but it's also absolutely perfect. "Text me when you get home, please?"

Quinn nods. "Okay."

Rachel doesn't shut the front door until Quinn starts her car and pulls away from the curb. Only then does she close it, leaning back against the door with a wide smile on her face.

"Rachel, honey?" her dad calls from the other room. "How was your date?"

"Absolutely perfect."

About fifteen minutes later, she receives a text that says:

**Made it home. You can stop pacing.**

Rachel reads it and rolls her eyes, punching out a reply.

**Not even. I'm sitting here watching tv with my dads. (But thank you.)**

**Goodnight, Rach. :)**

**Goodnight, Quinn.**

Quinn's sister, whom Rachel has never met, lives in Fort Wayne, which is a little over an hour from Lima, just across the state line. Around nine-thirty on Saturday morning, Rachel receives a text.

**This is probably a dumb question because you're one of those bright and cheery morning people, but are you up?**

Rachel smiles at the message. She's been awake since seven-thirty, as she's been allowing herself to sleep later during the summer months, but not so late that she develops a bad habit of losing half her morning. There's always so much that can be done as the day begins and Rachel rather likes getting a head start on everything. Unless she's ill or waiting for a cast list to be posted. Then she'd much prefer to stay in bed until the sickness passes or the list is up.

I** am. :) Are you on your way to Indiana?**

**You make it sound like an epic road trip, but we do this every few weeks.**

**It still must be nice to get out of Ohio, if even just barely. I've never been to Fort Wayne.**

**Yes, you have.**

Rachel stares at the screen and wonders how Quinn could possible be so sure about a detail from Rachel's life. How do you know?

**The charity concert Mr. Schue set up at that retirement home? That was in Fort Wayne. And on the way back, Santana got motion sickness and we had to stop at that McDonalds.**

She abandons her phone, momentarily, while she pushes herself off the bed to her bookshelf to retrieve her diary from the previous school year. It takes a minute, but as she flips through the color coded tabs (blue for Finn related incidents, gold for highlights in her own rise to stardom, yellow for events and performances featuring the New Directions, green for items pertaining to Quinn, etc...) she finds an entry about the trip in question. It's suddenly clear in her mind and she does vaguely recall that they crossed the state line. **Oh, when Brittany thought maybe she was with child?**

**Yes, although I think she made it sound a lot less biblical. And you also you launched into some rant about the treatment of cows in meat processing plants.**

**I've given that speech more than once, but now that you mention it, I do recall that particular instance.**

**It's not really that different from home, so it makes sense that it wouldn't make an impression on you. The drive is kind of nice, though.**

As much as she tries to remember what the scenery was like, Rachel can't really picture it. Probably because she was busy studying sheet music or watching Quinn give Noah the evil eye for whatever crude story he was telling.

**Wait. Quinn. You're not driving right now, are you? Please tell me you are not texting while operating a motor vehicle!**

**My mom is driving. If I were driving, my sentences would be much shorter.**

**:|!**

**What?!**

**It's dangerous. And Oprah is strongly opposed to it.**

**Oh, well, if Oprah's against it...**

**I'm serious!**

**I can tell. And I'm sure Oprah is, too.**

**I'm not talking to you, anymore.** Even though Quinn can't see her, Rachel crosses her arms over herself and pouts.

**:(**

Rachel holds out for maybe five minutes, but only because Hiram asks her to bring her bath towels down to the laundry room.

**I just don't want something to happen to you.**

**Okay. I'll be more careful.**

**Thank you.**

There's a lull and Rachel wonders if Quinn is busy talking to her mother, but then the next message comes through. **Does that include sexting?**

**It includes anything! But, is that... something you do?**

**No. Or, I haven't done it, yet. It was also a joke. Kind of.**

**I think you'd be good at it.**

**You do?**

**You're well read and good with punctuation.**

**Because I'm literate, you think I'd be good at sending dirty messages**

**Why not? I think I'd be good at it, too.**

**Can I at least take you on a second date before we start in on the explicit texting?**

**Absolutely.**

**Omg, my mom is asking me what's so important that I'm sending so many messages so fast.**

**What did you tell her?**

**Nothing. I just switched the iPod to something she likes.**

**Have you talked to her at all about us?**

**Not yet. I'm kind of nervous about it.**

**But you still think she'd be all right with it, right?**

**In theory, yeah.**

**Oh. Would it help if I were there when you tell her?**

**I don't know. Maybe? But we've only gone out once.**

**Yes, but we're also making plans for another outing. And the sexual texting.**

**Rachel! Now she's asking me why I'm laughing.**

**Why are you laughing? This is absolutely serious!**

**Omg. Okay. I'm sorry. It's just that sexual texting sounds so formal.**

**I was kidding. It's rather funny, actually. And I wonder if there's an etiquette to it. Maybe I'll look that up, later.**

**Oh god. You would.**

**I enjoy being thorough.**

**Which means they would be lengthy texts. I'd better up my data plan.**

**Are you suggesting that I talk too much? I could start abbreviating everything the way that Noah does and, therefore, make my messages basically unintelligible to anyone who speaks the English language.**

**Do you even realize how many words that last message was?**

**Thirty-two. :P**

**Smart ass.**

**I happen to be fairly certain that you're fan of that particular area of my body, given the way you kept looking at it, last night.**

**I wasn't!**

**It's okay. I know that skirt certainly highlights particular assets of mine.**

**And now your mother wants to know why you're blushing.**

**Shut up.**

**;)**

**:)**

The texts continue to come in small bursts throughout the day, but there's a definitely lack of any messages after six in the evening, which Rachel knows is because Quinn is driving so her mother can nap on the way home.

Rachel's on her stomach, propped on her elbows, bare feet kicking against her pillow as she reads through the NYU admissions website when her phone rings. Quinn's name and Facebook photo illuminate the screen and Rachel grins as she answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Is it... too late two come by?"

"Quinn, it's barely seven-thirty."

"Well, I didn't know if your dads have rules or if you have family night or something."

"Oh, well, we do have game night. But that's Sunday evenings. Tonight they're at a fundraiser."

"Can I still come over?"

"Of course."

"Good, because I'm kind of pulling up to your house, right now."

Rachel laughs. "What if I hadn't been here? Or what if my dads were super strict and didn't let me have visitors after dinner?"

"Then I would have either driven home or climbed the tree to your bedroom window."

"I don't have a tree outside my window."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you're home."

She hears the doorbell and is quick to hurry out of her room to answer the door. Right as she twists the doorknob, she remembers she's in a purple tank top and a pair of pajama shorts with unicorns and rainbows on them. In addition, her hair is in pigtail braids and while she's always ready to put on a show face, she realizes she should have taken a moment to dress less like she's attending a junior high slumber party.

But it's too late, because she's looking across the threshold at Quinn, who's simply stunning, as always, in a blue flowered sundress and white sandals. She has something wrapped in a brown paper bag in one hand.

"Hi." Quinn says, her lips turned up in amusement.

"I'm... I didn't think about what I had on until... now."

There's a small shrug from Quinn. "I like it."

Rachel smiles as she shakes her head and waves Quinn into the house. Quinn takes her hand and their fingers slip together, which is enough to make Rachel smile even wider. "What did you want to do?" she asks, softly.

"Well, my sister forced us to take home basically, like, half of a pie. It's cherry and I'm pretty sure it's not entirely vegan, but I thought I'd at least take a chance."

"I happen to always make an exception for cherry pie," Rachel replies, walking them toward the kitchen. "Also apple, peach, and any kind of berry."

"Berry on berry, huh?"

"I'm not even sure if that's supposed to be an innuendo or not."

Quinn laughs as she places the pie on the counter. "I... don't think it was."

Rachel's about to pull away to retrieve a couple of plates from the cupboard, but Quinn won't release her hand and she's immediately pulled back toward the other girl. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah," Quinn says, with a slight nod.

The space disappears between them and they're kissing. It's soft and effortless, unhurried. Rachel's hand finds Quinn's cheek and her fingertips linger there even as she pulls back, lip between her teeth as she looks up at Quinn. The questions of 'what was that for' is on the tip of her tongue, but there's an electricity between them, a current that explains everything, even if there aren't really words for it, yet.

She supposes maybe they should get through a second date, first.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Look, the 3's are hearts. Just... you'll know when you get there. FFnet's formatting standards are crap.**

* * *

Rachel's rinsing their dessert dishes off when she hears her "Casual Evenings" Pandora station start up on her laptop. It's on the kitchen counter, because they've been looking at Noah's Facebook photo album for pictures from their New York trip. He, for some reason, took more pictures than anyone else in their group. A good number of them are of random women on the streets of New York, but he managed to capture a lot of candids of the New Directions, too.

"You can make a new station, just please don't alter any of mine," Rachel says. She glances over her shoulder to see Quinn looking back at her.

"I certainly wouldn't want to throw off the delicate balance of your perfectly seeded Pandora stations." Quinn looks back to the computer and drags the cursor across the list of stations. "But what if I want to add something to Ultimate Barbra-"

Rachel grabs the dish towel off the counter and whips it at Quinn. "Step away from the computer!" Quinn tries to grab the towel, but Rachel quickly draws it back.

"What kind of evening qualifies for a chance to listen to this Casual Evening playlist?"

"One at home with no particular need to rehearse anything specific. And one where no one is threatening to hijack my internet radio."

Quinn laughs. "No one was hijacking anything. I was just trying to broaden your horizons. Though," she says, nodding in the direction of the Beatles song that's playing, "maybe you're okay." Her arm shoots forward and she grabs the towel, using it to pull Rachel closer to her.

Rachel allows herself to be led toward Quinn, but her other hand is cocked on her hip. "You shouldn't really be that surprised that my musical tastes span beyond showtunes and Celine's discography."

"I'm not. You're just cute when you're mildly annoyed."

That actually probably explains a lot about their pre-New Directions interactions.

"So, you admit to pressing my buttons on purpose?"

"I don't think I actually pressed anything. I just suggested I might."

Rachel shakes her head, amused and smitten all at once, when Quinn's hand slips behind Rachel's back and the grasp on the towel is abandoned to hold Rachel's hand. Just like that, they're slow dancing while Oh, Darling! plays through the space of the kitchen. Perhaps it's the spontaneity of the moment, but this simple act of dancing together feels more intimate than just about anything else that's happened between them, this week.

"And just how long have you been waiting to dance with me, like this?" Rachel asks, tipping her head up to look at Quinn. There's a chuckle and Quinn shakes her head, but Rachel can tell there's more to this. "You've... actually thought about this before, haven't you?"

"I might have... it wasn't..." Quinn sighs and finally just says, "Prom."

Rachel's instinct is to stop moving, but Quinn keeps her swaying to the rhythm. "As in, our junior prom? But you were with Finn."

"I didn't really think of it as anything... just... we'd had that talk and you were such a good friend to me... it was just a thought I had," Quinn admits. "In my head, it wasn't a romantic thing."

"What about when it's not in your head?"

Quinn holds Rachel more tightly against her. "Just shut up and dance with me."

Rachel happily complies and lets her head rest against Quinn's shoulder as the song ends and another begins. That happens twice more before they pull apart and that's only because an ad begins to play and it's difficult to dance to the Geico gecko.

Later, they're on the couch and the television has been set to the Singers and Standards music channel after they abandoned the laptop in the kitchen. Rachel's cozied up to Quinn, head on her shoulder, Quinn's arm around her.

"Your hair smells good," Rachel says.

Quinn responds with a burst of laughter. "Sorry, that's just... So teen novel or something."

"You slow-danced with me in the kitchen and you're accusing me of being cliche?" Rachel sits up, but Quinn playfully pushes her head back down against her shoulder.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. Other than being really, ridiculously adorable."

"Now you're just trying to appease me."

"I am doing no such thing."

Rachel's back upright, biting her lip as she shifts into Quinn's space. "No?"

"No." Quinn's head shakes back and forth, but only for a moment, because then Rachel's kissing her and the hand behind Quinn's neck stills the motion. It reminds Rachel of last night in the car, with the small sounds Quinn's making into her mouth every time their tongues make contact. There's a warm hand on Rachel's thigh, just above her knee, and the intensity is building, which makes Rachel wonder if Quinn's going to pull back, soon. Only she doesn't. They're still kissing as Quinn seems to sink lower and lower until Rachel realizes she's basically lying on top of her, Quinn's hands resting on Rachel's back while Rachel puts her weight on her forearms that sit on either side of Quinn's head.

"Are you... is this okay?" Rachel asks, giving herself a little room to look down at Quinn.

"Yeah," Quinn nods, craning her neck up to steal another kiss.

"Would it," Rachel mumbles, torn between more kissing and what she wants to say. She decides she needs to say what she's thinking and pushes herself up even further. "Be forward of me to ask if you'd like to be my girlfriend?"

Quinn's eyebrow shoots up. "It's a little forward. We have only had one date." Rachel's mouth is already shaping itself to form a reply, but Quinn shakes her head. "But... I also really, very much, would like to be your girlfriend."

That's all Rachel needs to hear before she moves back in and resumes kissing Quinn. "Just so you know," she says, "I wasn't just asking because we're," Quinn hardly seems interested in the conversation, but Rachel keeps talking, anyway, "horizontally situated."

There's an amused hum from Quinn, then Rachel can feel warm breath against her ear. "I believe you."

"O... okay. Good." Rachel can't even keep her eyes open and it's getting more difficult to keep things from... escalating too quickly.

Fortunately, Quinn seems to still have her steel resolve from Celibacy Club and she twists, just enough, so that they're lying on their sides, facing each other. She has a secure arm around Rachel, even though there's really no danger of Rachel falling off the couch. "Now you definitely have to believe me about the ridiculously adorable thing."

"You're just saying that because I'm your girlfriend."

There's a moment where Quinn's eyes search Rachel's face and then she smiles. "Maybe."

Rachel is absolutely okay with that.

Sunday is the first day since Wednesday that passes without them seeing each other. Rachel knows it's silly to miss Quinn, but she can't help it.

But Quinn has church and other Sunday activities with her mother, while Rachel's evening is the usual bi-weekly family dinner with Grandma Berry.

There are texts, but not as many as she would like.

Monday morning, there's a temporary lack of water in the Berry household due to some road construction up the street and she doesn't have a chance to take coffee to Quinn at the garage, so when she shows up with the day's lunch menu packed in the picnic basket she's holding, Rachel's literally bouncing on her feet as she looks for Quinn.

"Hello?"

"Back here!" comes a reply from the far corner of the shop. Rachel's about to move toward the sound of Quinn's voice, but then she hears, "Actually, wait there."

Rachel doesn't want to wait any longer than necessary to see her girlfriend after their near thirty-six hours of separation, but she supposes she can hold out for a few more moments.

There's another voice coming from the rear of the shop, which she recognizes as Burt's. She can't make out what he's saying, but there's definitely a good-natured laugh. Both Burt and Quinn come into view and when Rachel catches Quinn's eyes, she feels the smile break out across her face. Quinn's in mid sentence, saying something about pistons or plugs or both, but she's grinning as she speaks.

"Well, if you want to stay late, I'll leave you the key to lock up," Burt says. "Rachel," he nods at her. "I'm getting the feeling I'll be seeing a lot of you around here."

Rachel isn't sure what Quinn's told him, if anything, but the way he's proudly beaming at the both of them, she has a feeling he knows they're more than just lunch buddies. "Yes, I'm absolutely certain you will."

There's a polite tip his baseball cap and maybe even a wink as he says,"You gals enjoy your lunch," before exiting the shop floor.

"Hi." Quinn has her hands shoved in the pockets of her coveralls, but Rachel can see that there's grease all the way up to her elbows. There's a glimmer in her eyes and Rachel at least knows enough to recognize it as the look Quinn gets when she wants to kiss her.

"Hi," Rachel replies, still clutching the basket. "You think we can do this without you getting me dirty?"

Quinn smirks. "I can try." She ducks her head down and Rachel meets her with a kiss. It's too short and not enough, so Rachel initiates another, shifting the basket to one hand and gripping the front of Quinn's coveralls with the other. "I should... um..." But then there's a third kiss and Quinn seems to be struggling with her balance, a little. "I should go clean up," she finally manages.

"You should," Rachel agrees, pulling back and looking up at her. "You have a little..." She runs a finger over her own right eyebrow, indicating that Quinn has a small streak of grease in the same spot.

"Well, I do work in a garage."

"I noticed."

Quinn scrubs her hands in the shop sink, then disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When she emerges, her face is clean and the top of her coveralls are tied around her waist. Today she's wearing a red tank top that's somewhat reminiscent of her former Cheerios uniform.

She slips her hand into Rachel's as they cross the street to their picnic bench. "What's for lunch?"

"Well, since we had dinner at my grandmother's last night, we didn't have leftovers, so I had to make some-"

"Rach, we could have just picked up something. You don't have to just make me lun-"

"-Quinn. Might I perhaps finish what I was saying?"

"Sorry, yes."

"So, I had to make some other arrangements." They're at the table and Rachel places the basket on top of it. As she opens the top of it, Quinn spies the Breadstix logo on the takeout boxes inside. "Eggplant Parmesan. Mine's the one without cheese."

"Rachel, you really don't have to-"

Rachel shakes her head and pushes Quinn down on to the bench, with Quinn's back to the table. "Are we going to argue about this, every day?"

"Maybe?"

"No, we aren't. You," Rachel sits sideways on Quinn's lap and drapes her arms over Quinn's shoulders. "Are going to let me bring you lunch, because I'm your girlfriend and because I want to."

"Because you're my girlfriend and because you want to," Quinn repeats with a slow nod, her arms circling Rachel's waist.

But then there's a moment of realization from Rachel. "Unless... this is too much and I'm being too aggressive with the meals. If that's the case, I'll stop bring-" She stops, because Quinn's shaking with laughter. "What?"

"You're not being too aggressive. I..." The laughing stops and Quinn's expression is soft as she says, "I really like that you bring me lunch."

"You do?"

"I promise. I just don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I want to."

"Okay, then."

Rachel nods and, it's almost like a magnetic force, the sensation of them being drawn together in a kiss. Half of Quinn's lunch break has passed when they finally manage to break apart and open the boxes of take-out. It's the first time they've sat next to each other in the park and while Rachel misses watching Quinn from across the table, it's made up for by the fact that Quinn's hand is resting on her knee through the entire meal.

The next few days are just like this, cozy lunches in the fresh air, with texts and Facebook chat and phone calls in the evenings. Wednesday night, there's even an after hours texting conversation, which catches Rachel in a half-asleep state, so she isn't sure, at first, if it's actually happening.

Hey. Are you up?

Rachel looks at the time in the corner of her phone screen. One-seventeen A.M.

Kind of. Are you okay?

Yeah. Just can't sleep.

Any reason?

Not really. I'm just restless.

You could try working out? Sometimes I jump on the elliptical when that happens.

I just did about a hundred crunches.

The image of Quinn, on the floor, doing one crunch after the other, seems to wake Rachel up, a little bit.**That didn't tire you out?**

A little. But we used to do way more than that in Cheerios.

Your body still looks really good.

Rachel blinks as she stares at the message she just sent. She hadn't meant to actually type and send it, she'd just been thinking it.**I mean, even though you're not doing the intensive workouts. You're still in really great shape.**

Fortunately, Quinn's reply is:**I have to maintain what I've got. Because, have you seen my girlfriend?**

**:)**

**;)**

**Tired, yet?**

**I'm trying. What else do people do when they can't sleep?**

**I thought we were saving the sexting until we had a second date.**

**Haha.**

**You don't want to hear about my sock monkey pajama shorts?**

**No unicorns, this time? And, actually... it's not even funny, because even in those shorts, you're still really hot.**

**This suggests that you think I'm hot a majority of the time.**

**It does.**

**Now are you tired?**

**I'm... yeah, I think I'm going to go. Night, Rach.**

**Goodnight, Quinn. ;)**

Rachel had been on the edge of sleep when the first text had come through, but now she's wide awake. She's also fairly certain that Quinn is, too.

When she closes her eyes, all she can see is Quinn in a sports bra and shorts, repeatedly lifting herself up off the floor as she counts out the crunches she's doing. In her mind, there's a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Rachel's never particularly had a fantasy about anyone working out, like this, before. But it's working. And, anyway, the thought of exercise is quickly abandoned as she recalls that night on the couch.

Her hand is already tucked under the waistband of her pajama shorts and it's dipping even lower, fingers dragging over her panties as she thinks about what it's like to kiss Quinn in a horizontal position. Her mind fills with the sense memory of Quinn's mouth on hers, the way Quinn's tongue feels against her own, the light noises Quinn makes when Rachel's teeth drag over her bottom lip. She thinks about that night in the car, because even though they barely even made out, Rachel was so turned on by the way Quinn felt against her. That's what she's thinking about now, while her fingertips make deliberate circles, she's imagining Quinn pressed up against her, moving with her, touching her, kissing her, until-

She comes with her face buried against her pillow. Even though her room is soundproofed and she knows no one would ever hear her, this still is a very private moment. As she catches her breath, she notices her screen is illuminated with a received message. The goodnight text she sent Quinn was sent fifteen minutes ago. This one is timestamped less than three minutes before the current time.

It just says: **3**

Rachel smiles to herself and replies with an echo of the sentiment.

**3. Go to sleep.**

**I would, but someone's texting me.**

**You started it.**

**Yeah, maybe. ;)**

**Now please get some rest. I don't want any lube wrenches falling on you tomorrow.**

**You obviously need more shop time, because there's no such thing as a lube wrench.**

**I think you just like telling me about cars.**

**I might.**

**GO TO BED.**

**:(**

**3**

**:)**


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Rachel's at the garage about ten minutes earlier than usual, because she wants to make sure Quinn has enough time to drink her coffee. Not that the morning shift at the shop ever appears to be fast-paced, but she knows Quinn was up late the night before and Rachel's still worried about those lube wrenches. Or whatever they use to change oil.

The garage is open and Quinn's car is parked where it usually is, but the blonde isn't outside. Rachel knows Quinn's been putting in some extra hours this week, staying a little later. So, it's possible she's been starting early, too. As she balances the coffee carrier in one hand, she opens her car door and prepares to call out for her girlfriend, into the open space of the garage, the way she has several times in the last few days. But after Rachel's door slams shut, Quinn walks out of the garage, wiping at her hands with a rag.

"Thought that might be you," Quinn says.

"You're already working?" Rachel asks. She passes a cup of coffee into Quinn's waiting hand, but she doesn't let go until Quinn kisses her.

"Yeah, I wanted to get a head start on something. Which, um," Quinn takes a sip of her coffee. "I hope you didn't have anything too big planned for lunch today, because I have to drive over to Findlay on my break and pick up some parts."

Rachel doesn't have anything too extravagant lined up, but she can't seem to hide the disappointment that Quinn won't be able to spend time with her. "I... no, it's just Tofurky sandwiches and kale chips."

"Hey," Quinn reaches out for Rachel, but stops herself, because she already has grease on her hands before nine in the morning. "I was thinking," the hand drops back to her side. "If you wanted, we could meet up here around five-thirty? I can take you to dinner? I don't really have anything too formal with me to change into, but I promise I'll make sure we go somewhere with an open dining room, this time."

"If I wanted?" The disappointed feeling is quickly replaced with one of adoration for her girlfriend. "Yes," Rachel reaches forward and hooks her fingers in the pocket of Quinn's coveralls. "You can take me to dinner." This time, when she kisses Quinn, she tastes like coffee, just like she did yesterday and the day before. She wonders if coffee is going to start having some Pavlovian effect on her where she won't be able to drink it without thinking about kissing Quinn.

Though, lately, she isn't able to do much at all without thinking about kissing Quinn.

Rachel's at the garage at five-thirty, despite her desire to be early. She wants to give Quinn ample time to finish work and clean up for their date. Quinn's car is the only one parked next to the shop, so it appears that everyone else has headed home for the day.

As Rachel checks her reflection in the vanity mirror, she smiles to herself. This is their second date. But only because they aren't counting all their lunches together. Or should those count? And, if that's the case, do the morning coffee meetings count as speed dates?

There's a knock on the window and she turns to see Quinn standing outside the car. Her coveralls are gone and she's wearing a faded green t-shirt with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it and a pair of jeans that hug her hips in such a way that Rachel catches herself staring before she shakes herself out of the moment and lowers the window.

Quinn leans down on her elbows and smiles at Rachel. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself." Again, Rachel's eyes begin drift. "I don't think I've ever seen you in jeans outside of glee club numbers."

"I don't usually wear them. But, around here, I can't really wear super cute dresses."

"They look... really good on you."

Quinn's eyes narrow in curiosity. "The super cute dresses or the jean?."

"Both," is Rachel's immediate answer. "But I... was talking about those." She nods toward Quinn's pants and Quinn laughs. Her eyes linger on Rachel's face, then she reaches into the car and slips her hand behind Rachel's neck. It's kind of like that first day, that first kiss. Except it's completely different. This time, it's familiar, she knows what to expect, she knows what it means.

"I want to show you something," Quinn says, as she pulls back. Before Rachel can begin to wonder what it is, Quinn's already opening the door and taking her by the hand.

"I know it's been a few days since I've had an automotive lesson, but this can't wait until after we eat?"

"No, it can't." Quinn leads Rachel through the shop, to the back corner. "This is why I had to miss lunch, today."

"I thought you missed lunch to pick up pa- Oh, wow." Rachel doesn't know much about cars, other than she knows how to drive one and now, thanks to Quinn, she knows what the inside of one looks like. But she also has seen enough movies to know what a classic car looks like.

"It's a 1969 Mustang," Quinn informs her. The car is shiny black with a thin red stripe down the side. It looks to be in perfect condition. Even the interior appears almost like new.

"Is this... are you working on this for someone?"

"Well," Quinn tugs Rachel closer to the car. "Burt has a friend that does restorations for movies and apparently this car was in something they shot in Chicago last year."

"A movie star car?"

"Mhmm."

"Do you know what movie?"

"Not a clue."

"It doesn't look like it would need any work."

"Right?" Quinn chuckles. She releases Rachel's hand so she can raise the hood.

Rachell peers inside. "I'm new at this, but shouldn't there be an engine and a battery and whatever else in there?"

"Yep. I guess they just needed it to look good for the movie, not actually run." Carefully, Quinn lowers the hood and inspects her hands for and grease before reaching for Rachel's again. "Burt and I are rebuilding it. That's why I've been here so much, this week."

"I'm sure it's a very valuable experience in your line of work." Rachel appreciates that Quinn wants to share this part of her job with her.

"It was delivered over here last week, but the guy who wanted to buy it didn't want to put in the time to do the rebuild, so he passed on it."

"That's unfortunate." Rachel runs her fingers over the glossy paint. "It really is a beautiful car."

"I know." Quinn bites her bottom lip before she says, "That's why I bought it."

Rachel looks from the car to Quinn. "This is yours?"

Quinn nods. She's practically bouncing. "Yeah. I got a really good deal on it and Burt's letting me get the parts at cost. And, of course, I'm putting in the labor myself, so..."

Suddenly, Rachel has a lot more interest in the vehicle. "Can we sit in it?"

"Absolutely." Quinn opens the passenger door for Rachel, though, when Rachel immediately bypasses the front seat to climb into the back, the blonde tilts her head. "Straight for the backseat, huh?"

Rachel just tugs on Quinn's hand and she's quick to follow. "My girlfriend just told me she bought an incredibly sexy car that she's putting together herself. I think this is exactly where we should be."

"I thought you were in a hurry to get to dinner."

"Not anymore." Rachel strokes her thumb across Quinn's cheek. "You are so incredible," she says, almost absently.

Quinn catches Rachel's hand and presses a kiss to her palm. "All I did was buy a car."

"So you can put it back together." Rachel can tell Quinn's about to shrug, so she drops her hands onto Quinn's shoulders. "No, you don't get to act like it's not a big deal. Quinn, you're so... you're unstoppable when you want something. And that's..."

"It's what?"

"It's part of what makes me so happy to be with you."

Quinn blinks and looks down. "Rachel..."

Rachel tips Quinn's chin back up and there's that pull, again, the one that's so natural, so real. She still can't quite fully put into words what it is she feels when Quinn kisses her, but it's an electric connection, physical, with currents of emotion. Frantic isn't the word for what's happening, right now, but it's close to it. Impassioned, maybe. Though, that feels a little heavy for five days of courtship.

Not that words matter, at this moment. Quinn's hands are in her hair, her own are gripping at Quinn's arms. One hand slips down from Rachel's hair to her shoulder and Rachel realizes she wants something more, but she doesn't want to pull her mouth from Quinn's to say so. Actions speak louder, especially at times like right now, anyway. She puts her hand over the one on her shoulder and pulls it down toward her breast.

There's a pause in the kissing as Quinn glances down, then back up at her. "You..." It's a one word functioning as question that Quinn doesn't even need to ask, but the fact that she does makes Rachel need this even more.

"Uh huh," Rachel nods and arches her back, just a little, just enough to move slightly against the palm of Quinn's hand.

"Okay," Quinn breathes. Her movements are tentative, at first, gently cupping Rachel through her dress. But when Rachel nips at Quinn's bottom lip, her touch becomes a little more aggressive, lightly kneading though the fabric. It's making her dizzy.

"Quinn?"

"Huh?"

Another kiss, then Rachel's fingers are tracing Quinn's collar bone through her t-shirt. "Can I...?" She can feel Quinn's smile against her lips.

"Yeah."

Rachel's hand drops until she's mirroring what Quinn's doing to her, touching, caressing, reveling in the feeling of Quinn under her hand. The more she explores with her fingertips, tracing the shape of Quinn's bra under the thin cotton of her t-shirt, the more evident it is that Quinn's getting aroused by what's happening. Rachel is, too, because every time Quinn's thumb grazes over her nipple, Rachel has no control over the sound that emanates from the back of her throat.

It's almost impossible, but Rachel manages to tip her head away from Quinn's long enough to say, "We... if we're going to go to dinner... we should, um..."

Quinn nods, but it's a lazy, distracted kind of nod. "Dinner." She draws in a long, slow breath and begrudgingly lets her hand fall away. "Right. We have a date."

Rachel's hand moves back upward, pushing Quinn's hair behind her ear. "I think we're already on it." It's meant to be a cue, something to suggest they continue on to the next segment of the evening, but Rachel can't seem to follow her own suggestion, because she's leaning back and pulling Quinn with her, until she's pressed into the corner of the back seat. Her mouth seeks out Quinn's, again.

"I mean, if you're not necessarily... in a hurry..." Quinn has one hand braced on the window behind Rachel's head. "... we could spend a little more time... with this."

"A little more..." Rachel echoes, between kisses. Her hand has settled on Quinn's hip, though, with the way they're positioned, her fingers keep slipping under the bottom hem of the t-shirt. Her head tips to the side as Quinn's kisses drift toward Rachel's neck. "Oh... okay..." This is new territory, at least as far as the progression of what's happened since they ended up in this backseat. She isn't sure if she even cares about dinner, at this point.

Quinn's mouth is now pressed against her collar bone and Rachel's fingers are lightly scratching at Quinn's scalp. Both of them seem to be communicating with light, breathy sounds of contentment.

Until Quinn's knee slips off the seat and slams against the floor of the Mustang. "OW!" She mumbles, right into Rachel's chest.

"Oh my god, Quinn. Are you okay?"

There's a nod and then a sheepish look from her girlfriend as Quinn shifts her eyes back up to Rachel's face. "Yeah, that just..." She groans and turns her head, resting it back down.

"Maybe it's a sign that we're supposed to go to dinner."

"Maybe it's a sign that bucket seats aren't ideal for making out."

Rachel laughs, softly, stroking Quinn's hair. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Pretty sure all I've bruised is my pride," Quinn mumbles.

"You'll heal." Rachel pats her on the head.

"I suppose." Quinn sits up and straightens out her shirt. "Dinner?"

Rachel nods. "Yes, please." As Quinn climbs out of the car, Rachel's presented with a full view of her girlfriend's backside, the denim of the jeans embracing every perfect curve.

"Rachel?"

"What?" She blinks and realizes Quinn's waiting for her, hand extended to help her out of the car. "Oh. Sorry, I..." She doesn't finish, she just takes Quinn's hand and exits the backseat.

"You what?" Quinn asks, once Rachel has two feet on the cement floor.

"I think you should wear jeans more often."

Quinn's eyebrow elevates. "Were you just perving on me?"

"I'd much prefer the term admiring, thank you."

"I think this car turns you into a sex maniac."

"I... don't think it's the car." Rachel glances back at the Mustang. "Well, okay, the car doesn't hurt."

No, the car is definitely a turn-on. Rachel just never knew she had it in her, until now.


	9. Chapter 9

Around nine, Rachel's cell phone rings. She's been home from her date with Quinn for about an hour and part of that time was spent filling her fathers in on the family friendly portions of her evening out. She knows their curiosity stems from the fact that really like Quinn and she's grateful to have supportive parents like them. Still, they can be a tad bit exhausting, especially when they're both excited.

The ringtone is the same one she's had set for Quinn ever since they sang their duet together in glee club, but she's been considering changing it. She just hasn't settled on the perfect song, yet.

Anyway, she's brushing her teeth when she hears the call, so she picks up the phone and manages, "Hi," around her toothbrush. "Jus' a minute." She rinses out her mouth and dries her face off on the hand towel by the sink, then picks the phone back up. "Sorry. I was brushing my teeth."

"Why'd you answer, then?"

"Because it was you."

"You're so weird."

"You're the one calling me an hour after our date." Rachel shuffles across her bedroom carpet and drops onto her bed.

"I kind of have something important to tell you."

"Oh?" Rachel rolls on her side and holds the phone even more tightly to her ear.

"It's good, don't worry. Well, okay, there's a downside. But it's mostly really, really good."

"Quinn, you have me in suspense, over here."

"I talked to my mom about us."

Rachel's immediate concern is for Quinn's well being. Even though Quinn has told her that her relationship with her mother is actually in a very good place, she knows that these kinds of things can bring about unexpected change. "And?"

"She... wasn't at all surprised," Quinn's voice lilts with amusement. "She remembers you as 'that cute, bubbly girl with the powerful voice' from when she came to see us at Sectionals. I mean, I've talked about you, since then. She just... that's... anyway, we talked a little bit about how I'm... gay or whatever. She's really okay with it. I don't know what my dad would say if he ever found out, but I don't think I care."

"Quinn, you took a huge step tonight. I know you were fairly confident in your mother's opinion of all of this, but it still takes an enormous amount of courage. I'm proud of you." Rachel pauses, recalling what Quinn said before. "But, what's the downside you mentioned?"

"She wants you to come over for dinner. Saturday night."

"That's... not a bad thing. Is it?"

"No, it's just... you know, it's our one week anniversary. I didn't know if you were already planning something or... maybe that was stupid of me to assume."

"No, definitely not stupid. I actually did have an idea or two. But I can be flexible for something as important as dinner with your mother."

"I was very adamant about reminding her that you're a vegan, by the way. She insisted she could prepare a meal that you'd find more than suitable."

"Should I bring something? It's always polite to bring your hostess a gift."

"I don't think you need to. Though... okay, yeah, she'd love that. You'd score major points."

"I do think it's in my best interest to maintain a high tally of such points with my girlfriend's mother." She can hear Quinn yawning on the other end of the line. "You've had a long day and I know you didn't sleep much last night."

"I had a really great day, though. Especially tonight."

"Yeah, so did I."

"I'll see you in the morning?"

"Definitely."

"Okay. Goodnight, Rach."

"Gooodnight, Quinn."

Friday is coffee and lunch together, as usual, but Quinn's eager to put more time into the Mustang after hours, which might normally make Rachel a little jealous, but Kurt's been dying to heckle the Lima Senior Community Players Consortium production of 100 Years of Broadway and this is their final weekend. So, he's happy to let her girlfriend spend some quality time with her new project while she and Kurt sit in the back row at the community center and sing all the lyrics to every song under their breath.

But, by Saturday afternoon, she's itching to see Quinn, which is why she shows up and hour early for dinner.

Quinn isn't at all surprised to see her, because they've been texting all day. Judy (Quinn has already warned her that her mother will insist on being called Judy and not Mrs. Fabray, which is apparently some step in reclaiming her post-divorce life) seems to also have been tipped off about Rachel's early arrival, because when she answers the door, she doesn't appear at all surprised as she greets Rachel with a smile and says, "Hello, Rachel. Please, come in. I know we haven't formally been introduced, but I'm sure you know that I'm Judy, Quinn's mother."

"Mom, I said I'd get it if-" Quinn's on the stairs, her hair tucked back into a thin red headband that coordinates with the polka dot dress she's wearing. "Hi, Rach."

Rachel smiles at Quinn, but then focuses on Judy. "Yes, Mrs- Judy. Thank you so much for having me over. I took the liberty of baking these Thank You cookies to express my gratitude."

Judy accepts the plate of cookies. "Those look absolutely lovely, dear."

"I know I'm early but I didn't know if you'd like any assistance with dinner. My culinary skills are best left to baking, but my dad says I'm excellent with slicing and dicing." Rachel ignores the amused look that Quinn's giving her from behind her mother's back.

"That's very sweet, but that won't be necessary."

"I can take those, Mom." Quinn says, reaching for the plate.

"Nonsense," Judy maneuvers the plate out of Quinn's reach. "I'm sure you'd like to show Rachel the house. And perhaps offer her something to drink." She nods to Rachel. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on my sauce."

"Of course," Rachel replies.

Once Judy's in the kitchen, Quinn says, "Thank You cookies? Really?"

"Would you rather they be I'm Making Out With Your Daughter, So Please Don't Hate Me cookies?"

"Isn't that what they really are, anyway?"

"Possibly." Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand, though she's unsure of how Quinn's going to be about PDA in the presence of her mother.

For now, though, Quinn locks their fingers together, then tugs Rachel closer, taking one look back toward the kitchen to make sure Judy is definitely out of range before she presses a quick kiss to Rachel's lips. "Hi."

"Hi," Rachel replies.

Quinn stares down at her for several seconds before she snaps into action. "Come on, I'm supposed to show you the house."

Apparently, that translates to making a beeline for Quinn's bedroom where Quinn can shut the door and push out a sigh of relief.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel asks. "You said your mother was absolutely fine with us, right?"

"Yeah, she is. It's just..." Quinn, again, pulls Rachel to her, but this time, it's a lingering kiss where Quinn's hands settle on Rachel's hips and Rachel clings to Quinn's shoulders.

"I see," is the breathless response Rachel finally offers when they break apart.

"So, this is my room," Quinn says, ever so nonchalant, nuzzling her nose just below Rachel's ear.

"It's... nice." Rachel hasn't seen more than the back of the door, really, but she's certain it's absolutely suitable.

Quinn's grip on Rachel's hips is urging her to twist, so Rachel turns, leaning back against Quinn. "All the amenities. Four walls. Desk, chair, bed."

For a long time, Rachel imagined that Quinn's bedroom was somewhat stark, practically Spartan. But as she's gotten to know Quinn, this room feels more like what she's more recently conjured up in her mind (not that she's been thinking about Quinn's bedroom all that much, but maybe a little).

It certainly isn't a standard seventeen year old girl's room the way Hollywood might present it. There are no posters of boybands or teen heartthrobs. There are, however, framed images on the walls: What looks like a vintage lobby card for the movie Roman Holiday, a poster of the New York skyline that Rachel actually recalls Quinn purchasing in shop in Times Square, and several photos of both the Cheerios and the New Directions.

"I like it."

Rachel notices a photo tucked into the edge of the bulletin board on the wall above Quinn's desk. As first, she assumes it's a picture as a baby, but then she remembers that Quinn wasn't born blonde and then it hits her.

"Is that..." She's already leaning forward to get a better look.

"Yeah. Shelby sent that after her first birthday."

Rachel takes the few steps she needs to get closer to the board, never letting go of Quinn's hand. "She's beautiful. She looks just like you. And him, which is weird." Quinn's quiet and when Rachel turns back to look at her, she's met with a sad smile. "I didn't mean to... I didn't even ask if you were okay to talk about her."

"No. It's okay." There's a reaffirming squeeze of her hand. "I just wonder, sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah." Rachel knows. She knows it all too well.

There's another beat of silence, then Quinn says, "You don't ever have to ask to talk about her. She's important to me and you wanting to know about her... it means a lot."

Rachel pivots all the way around so that they're face-to-face, again. She wants to say something, something that's just right, something like, 'you mean a lot to me' or a comment on how amazing it is that Quinn not only handled a teen pregnancy but did the best thing for her child and still, now, wants to keep up with her life. But, for some reason, nothing she can think of sounds right.

Instead, she loops her arms around Quinn's waist and pulls them together, holding Quinn snugly against her, head resting on Quinn's shoulder. They stay that way for a while, wrapped in each other's embrace, leaving Rachel feeling warm and secure, something she hopes Quinn is also gaining out of this. Her head tips upward and she kisses Quinn's neck, just below the jawline. Quinn inhales, sharply, one hand sliding up Rachel's back, the other on her hip. Rachel continues to move her mouth against soft skin, listening to the sound of Quinn's breathing and how it hitches with almost every individual kiss.

"We still... have to spend dinner with my mother," Quinn finally says. "So, don't," there's a slight whimper, "leave any marks... please."

Rachel smiles and leaves one final, lingering kiss before letting her head settle back on Quinn's shoulder. "I would never be so inconsiderate as to leave hickies all over my girlfriend before such an event."

There's a chuckle from Quinn. "Good to know. Though, I don't think I'd mind, in theory. Just... I wouldn't want them to be where anyone could see them."

"But then they'd be-" Rachel stops as she considers that Quinn is quite possible well aware of just what kind of hickey placement would be out of the general sight.

"I didn't mean right now," Quinn says, in response to Rachel's sudden speechlessness.

"But," Rachel clears her throat and finds her voice. "You... might... later?"

Quinn's arms tighten around her in a bear hug. "We should go set the table. Mom does this thing where she says she doesn't want help, but she really does."

"Don't think I'm forgetting about this conversation, Quinn Fabray."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

There's another round of kissing and then Rachel lets her girlfriend lead her back downstairs, their conversation about mouths in places, currently on hold. She hopes Quinn has some stellar dinner conversation prepared, because she's going to need some assistance keeping her mind on appropriate topics.

At dinner, Rachel's given the seat at the head of the table, as she's the guest. It's better this way, anyway, because if she'd been seated next to Quinn, she can't guarantee that she'd be able to resist resting her hand on Quinn's knee and even though Judy is on-board with their budding romance, Rachel's fairly certain that isn't appropriate behavior.

Judy's prepared vegetable stir-fry and tofu satay with peanut sauce and Rachel's genuinely moved that Quinn's mother has gone to such lengths to prepare a meal that would suit her veganism.

"I have to admit Mrs- Judy," It's going to take a little longer for Rachel to train herself to use the woman's first name, but she feels like she's getting the hang of it. "When Quinn said you were planning a meal that I'd find suitable, I was... not expecting this. Most people generally just offer me salad."

"Nonsense. I'm always looking to expand my culinary horizons and when Quinn mentioned you were vegetarian-"

"Vegan, Mom."

Judy just purses her lips at her daughter and continues "- I thought it would be a chance to explore something outside of my general comfort zone."

Rachel smiles at her. "Well, this is some of the best satay I've ever had, honestly."

"Quinn, I like her," Judy says, glancing at her daughter as she gestures with her glass.

"Mom." Quinn bites her lip and actually blushes. This isn't something Rachel sees, a lot. Quinn Fabray is someone who has her, for lack of a better term, shit together, even when she's struggling.

Judy seems to be willing to give Quinn a reprise, because she turns back to Rachel, "Quinn says you're considering college in New York."

"I am. Both the Steinhardt and Tisch Schools at NYU, AMDA, and for a long time I had my sights set on Juilliard, but then I learned they don't even have a musical theater focus, so that certainly wouldn't make any sense for someone like me."

She feels Quinn's foot brush her calf under the table. "I think the second any of those schools see someone like you, they're going to want you," Quinn says.

Despite the fact that Rachel is well aware of her talent and constantly broadcasting just how incredible she is at the art of song, Quinn's comment makes her chew on her lip as she bites back a shy smile. "You think so?"

"They'd be idiots not to," is Quinn's confirmation.

"You seem to have had some influence on my daughter, here," says Judy. "She's been leaving some of her own NYU course catalogs around the house."

"I was thinking about it before, too," Quinn defends.

"I also just saw two more come in the mail this week, Columbia and Barnard."

"I just wanted to look. I don't know if I'm... cut out for Ivy League."

"That's ridiculous," as Rachel says it, she realizes Judy's said the exact same thing. They exchange a glance, then look back to Quinn. "You managed to stay on Honor Roll through the-" She isn't sure that bringing up Quinn's out of wedlock pregnancy is acceptable. "- everything you've gone through. Your cheerleading accomplishments alongside what I'm certain will be a National win for the New Directions, this year, is certainly going to bolster your application."

"Yeah, but I'll have to apply before we even go to Regionals."

"I'll help you. We can work on our applications together."

"I'm considering places out of New York City, too. Are you still okay helping me with those?" Quinn asks, leaning her chin on her hand.

Rachel sighs. "I suppose."

The rest of the meal is more of the same, easy conversation. When it's over, Rachel helps Quinn clear the dishes while Judy relaxes with a glass of chardonnay and an episode of Real Housewives.

"I just have to cover all my bases," Quinn says, running the plates under the tap before placing them in the dishwasher.

It takes Rachel a moment to realize Quinn's referring to college. "Quinn, whichever school you choose, your future is going to be incredible."

"I... I know. I just... I want it to be incredible... and close to you."

One week. That's the length of their dating relationship. Rachel knows she shouldn't read too much into this or expect anything long term, just yet. "We still have senior year before any of that. And this summer."

Quinn nods as she shuts the dishwasher door and wipes her hands off on a nearby dishtowel. She leans forward, resting her forehead against Rachel's. "Want to go up to my room?"

Rachel nods. "Why do I get a feeling you're thinking of places to hide hickies?"

"Shh," Quinn presses her finger over Rachel's lips. "My mom likes you but she doesn't need to know we're... you know..."

Not that they're doing anything... you know.

Yet.

On Wednesday, Rachel still, has two small, purplish marks just above the bra-line of her right breast. That's about three inches lower than the neckline of the summer dress she wore to dinner at the Fabray house and the exact spot Quinn fixated on during their make-out session. Quinn earned a couple of her own hickies, one of which was a little too close to the collar and she gave Rachel grief over it for about thirty seconds before pinning her down and kissing her so soundly, Rachel thought she might black out.

They still haven't done anything under the clothes and even over them, it's all above the belt. But there are moments, like that night, when Rachel knows they're both so close to just giving in. Maybe she'll talk to Quinn about it at lunch, today.

This morning, when she took Quinn her coffee, her girlfriend was already buzzing with the excited news that Burt would be helping her install the engine block into the Mustang. Rachel isn't entirely sure what that means, other than it sounds big and important and is probably crucial in getting the car to run.

She's at Between the Sheets, browsing around in an effort to find some inspiration for new songs, both to contribute to the New Directions, but also to bulk up her musical portfolio, when her phone vibrates in her purse. When she checks it and she sees Finn's name and Facebook picture on the screen, she presses ignore and continues scanning the titles in the Female Vocalist section. The phone begins to buzz a second time and she cannot fathom a reason why Finn would be calling her. They've barely spoken, at all, since school let out and he hasn't done more than like a couple of her posts (both New Directions related) on Facebook ever since that morning when Quinn kissed her the first time in front of the garage. She considers answering it, but then it's already going to voicemail.

And then it buzzes, again. Only it isn't a call. It's a text.

**cn u call bk plz?**

Now her curiosity's gotten the best of her, so she pulls up the missed call list and taps Finn's number on the screen.

He picks up on the first ring. "Rachel?"

"Finn. May I ask what was of such importance?"

"Yeah. Um... Burt asked me to call you, because he can't use his phone inside the emergency room, plus he has to handle the insurance forms, I guess..."

She suddenly regrets dismissing his calls so easily. This sounds serious. "Oh, Finn. I'm so sorry. Is it your mother? Or Kurt?"

"No, uh... it's Quinn."

"Quinn," Rachel hears herself saying. A handful of Linda Ronstadt flutters to the floor of the shop.

"Something happened at the shop, I don't know what. I just got here. Are you okay to drive?"

Rachel nods and it's not until she hears her name, again, through the phone that she speaks. "Yes, I'll..." Is she okay to drive? She can do this, she just has to take on the role of someone who has it together. "I'll be right there. Lima General, correct?"

"Yeah. See you soon, Rach."

She has no idea what to expect and she doesn't let herself think about it during the entire thirteen minute drive to the hospital. She manages to park, lock the car, and walk toward the emergency room entrance all on auto pilot, but the second she sees Finn waiting for her in the lobby, she begins to sag. He's there to catch her and he pulls her into a hug that's so big, she's lost in it.

"Are engine blocks heavy?" is the first thing she asks.

"Uh, yeah." He's confused about the question, but he answers the way he does when he actually knows something. "Like, a couple hundred pounds or something."

There's a sob that escapes her and he's back to just holding her, not letting her go. This part, she misses. There was a point where they were friends and she wants that part back. But right now, she just wants Quinn to be okay. She pulls out of his embrace and wipes at her eyes.

"They didn't say what happened?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Burt just told me to call you. Mrs. Fabray's already in there, too."

"Judy," Rachel automatically corrects. "She doesn't like to be reminded..."

His hands find his pockets as he looks at the floor. "You and Quinn have been... spending a lot of time together, huh?"

Rachel nods. "We're..."

"Yeah."

"I just want her to be okay."

"I know."

The doors to the patient area swing open and Burt steps through them, followed by Judy pushing Quinn in a wheelchair. Both adults look a little exhausted, but no one seems to have been given tragic news. Quinn, on the other hand, looks like the internet famous Grumpy Cat. She does manage to perk up, although barely, when she sees Rachel.

"Quinn, oh my god. You're okay."

"Doc said she'll be fine," Burt explains. "But she's going to need to take care of herself."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's a sprained ankle. I've finished cheerleading tournaments on worse."

"Lucy Quinn," Judy's quick to reprimand and it's odd to hear Quinn's given name being used like this. "You are going to do as the doctor said and take it easy. You're too young to develop problems because you're too stubborn to take some time off."

"A sprain?" Rachel asks. If that's the worst of it, she's likely to pass out from relief.

"Some idiot tipped over an oil pan and I slipped. It's so stupid."

On instinct, Finn glances at Rachel. "Not me."

"I think it's a sign that you need to relax and enjoy your summer." Judy gently squeezes Quinn's shoulder.

"Yeah, in an ankle brace and excruciating pain. Fun."

"If the pain's that bad, we should get that prescription filled, honey." Judy digs through her purse and produces a piece of paper. "Finn, would you run this to the pharmacy?"

"Mom, I don't need it. I'll just take some Aleve or something at home."

"That reminds me, I need to cancel the showing for this afternoon."

"No. Mom. Don't cancel anything because of this."

Rachel watches Judy square off with her daughter in a way that uncannily resembles Quinn. "And just how do you expect to get home and settled in this condition?"

"I can take her," Rachel offers.

"Are you sure you can handle her?" Finn asks. "She's mean when she's in pain."

"Shut up, Finn."

"See?"

"I think I can manage. If... that's okay with you, Quinn?"

Quinn nods, defeated. "Please."

Judy concedes and turns to Rachel. "If she complains about pain, at all, there is Vicodin in the medicine cabinet of the master bathroom."

"Mom!"


	10. Chapter 10

Everyone follows them out to the car and Quinn even lets Finn help her into the passenger seat. Probably because he just picks her up, right out of the wheelchair and she doesn't really have the energy to argue or fight him over it. Once she's in the car, her head falls back against the headrest and her jaw sets as she stares up at the ceiling.

Rachel has a feeling she needs to just get Quinn home. She slips her arms around Finn in a quick hug. "Thank you," she says to him.

"Anytime," he says as he lets her go.

While Burt places Quinn's new crutches in the backseat of Rachel's car, Judy holds out a key ring. "I don't think Quinn has her purse with her, so here are the keys to the house. I should be home around five. Make yourself at home, dear."

Rachel nods and accepts the keys. She's accustomed to the chaos of performance but all of this is starting to make her head spin. "We should get going so Quinn can rest."

"I'm fine," is Quinn's protest from the car.

Everyone finally disperses, but not before Judy kisses her grumpy daughter on the cheek and asks what she wants for dinner, later. Quinn's response is a shrug and Judy looks across to Rachel, who's now in the driver's seat, pulling on her seatbelt.

"You're welcome to join us later, if you'd like."

"I'll need to check in with my fathers, but I'd love to, thank you."

The passenger door shuts and they're alone, the car's air conditioner cooling the summer heat around them.

"Finally," Quinn sighs.

"Do you need anything before we-"

"No." The response is sharp and Rachel knows Quinn isn't intending to be short with her, but perhaps just turning on the radio and avoiding conversation is the best way to get through this drive. Everything over the last couple of weeks has been close to perfection, so the slight awkwardness feels much heavier than it probably is. Rachel doesn't allow herself to dwell on that. Quinn's in pain and being stubborn about medication, which is probably some leftover Cheerios brainwashing about how surrendering to pain is a sign of weakness or something.

When they arrive at the Fabray house, Quinn still hasn't said a word to her. She spent the entire drive staring out the side window and it isn't until Quinn turns to unbuckle her seatbelt that Rachel sees the tears in her eyes.

"Hey..." she says, softly. She can't stop herself from reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Quinn's arm. Quinn blinks and keeps her eyes pointed downward, at least until she squeezes them shut. From the way she's breathing, Rachel can tell she's in pain. That still doesn't stop her from using her voice of sheer Rachel Berry Resolve. "Okay, Quinn, look. We're getting you inside and into bed and you're taking something for this."

There's a reluctant nod from Quinn and Rachel's out of the car, removing the crutches from the backseat, and handing them to Quinn who won't let Rachel actually help her up. Quinn manages to get up the front walk, just fine, and Rachel unlocks the door.

There's a beep and Quinn says, "Four eight five five."

"What?"

Quinn waves her right crutch in the general direction of the keypad on the wall near the front door. "The alarm. Hurry, before the cops show up."

"Oh!" Rachel quickly punches in the code and there's another beep as the display tells her the alarm has now been disarmed.

It's something of a struggle getting Quinn accept help going upstairs, but she ultimately gives in and Rachel has one arm around her waist while Quinn grips her shoulder with one hand and the railing with the other. Once they get to the top, Quinn demands to have her crutches back and hobbles the rest of the way to her bedroom.

"Do you want to change?" Rachel asks. She can't imagine Quinn wants to lie in her bed in clothes she wore at the garage and the hospital.

"Yeah, I'll-" Quinn's already sitting on the bed, but she reaches for her crutches to pull herself back up.

"Stay there!" Rachel doesn't really shout, but she isn't passive, either. Quinn doesn't reply, but she stays put. "What do you need?"

"There are pajamas in the top drawer. Just a shirt and pair of shorts, is fine." Rachel finds a McKinley Athletics Dept. t-shirt and a pair of blue striped boxer shorts, which she passes to Quinn. "I can do this part," Quinn says.

Rachel nods. "I'll just wait out here..." she says, as she exits into the hallway.

Quinn sighs. "You don't have to... whatever."

This, though, is a prime opportunity to secure the painkillers Judy informed her about. Down the hall is an open door to a large, airy bedroom. It's a little dated in design, but it's elegant and seems to fit Judy. Rachel wonders if it was redone after Quinn's father left.

She makes a left and steps into the master bathroom. It's not really her desire to snoop through her girlfriend's mother's bathroom, so she starts in the most logical location and opens the medicine cabinet. Thankfully, right there, on the top shelf, is a prescription bottle that says Vicodin right on the label. She grabs it and makes her way back to Quinn's room.

"Are you decent?"

"Yes." Quinn lies on the bed, haphazardly flopped back across her pillows. "You didn't have to leave. I'm just... this sucks."

"I know." Rachel sets the pills on the nightstand and gently urges Quinn to adjust her position. She takes one of the pillows from behind her and ever so carefully uses it to prop up her ankle. "You need to keep this elevated."

"And I need to ice it for-"

"-twenty minutes at a time." At Quinn's questioning look, Rachel says, "I was never a cheerleader, but I've been in ballet for years. I know what to do with a sprain."

Quinn manages a small, but pained, smile. "I'm sorry I've been so..."

"You're hurt. It's okay."

"It's not, though."

"Quinn."

"What?"

"If you want to make it up to me, you'll just let me take care of you, okay?"

There's a beat of silence. "Okay."

Rachel bends down and kisses Quinn's forehead. "Which means, you need to take one of these." She picks up the bottle and shakes it.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Fine."

There's a bottle of water on the nightstand, so Rachel hands it to her, along with one of the painkillers. "I'm going to get ice. Do you want anything else while I'm down there?"

"No. Just... hurry back."

"I can do that."

"There are already ice packs in the door of the freezer." Quinn shrugs as she swallows the pill. "Cheerios."

Rachel finds the ice pack, easily enough. She also locates a bottle of Vitamin Water and a bag of pretzels, because she figures Quinn probably shouldn't take the medication on an empty stomach.

"If you want, I was thinking we could just pick something on Netflix and-" But when she re-enters the bedroom, Quinn is asleep. It makes sense. With all the stress and the pain and now the prescription grade painkillers in her system, she must be exhausted.

Rachel notes the time and places the ice pack around the swollen ankle, then climbs up onto the bed, next to Quinn. Her girlfriend's mouth is hanging open, just a bit, and there's the sound of light snoring. She's careful not to wake Quinn, though it seems like that may be impossible, at this moment, and Rachel lies on her side, one arm tucked under her head, the other draped over Quinn's middle.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispers. "Even if you're grumpy and difficult. And stubborn." Rachel snuggles closer to Quinn, burying her face against her t-shirt clad shoulder.

On the drive to the hospital, there were certain thoughts that kept creeping into her mind. The kind that kept suggesting the worst, the ones that made her regret not saying or doing things she wanted to say and do. Even though they've only been together a week and a half, Quinn is someone she's known for years, someone who has been there for some of her greatest triumphs and failures. Someone she wants to have around to share future accomplishments and... yes, even things that don't go the way she expects. She wants to share things with Quinn. Now and later. All the time.

And there's something she's been keeping to herself all this time, because it's too soon, it's too early. Even though it really isn't, because she's already shared so many things with Quinn before they even got to this point.

Right now, while Quinn's sound asleep, it feels like a safe time for Rachel to try this. A test-run so she has it perfected for the next time.

It's barely whispered, which is fine, because no one needs to hear it, just yet.

"I love you."

Quinn sleeps for a solid hour and a half, and while she does, Rachel rotates the ice packs and makes sure Quinn's toes aren't turning blue. She checks her Facebook and watches an old episode of Top Model on her phone while Quinn doses next to her. It's comfortable and quiet after all the chaotic excitement from earlier.

Finally, Quinn stirs, sleepy eyes blinking open and looking at Rachel.

"Hey." Her voice is pure gravel, even rougher than usual.

Rachel sets her phone aside and gives Quinn her full attention. "How are you feeling?"

Quinn frowns in the direction of her foot. "Stiff. It doesn't really hurt, right now, though."

"Good."

"Would it be gross and needy of me to ask for a hug?"

Rachel laughs. "I was doing that already while you were asleep."

"You were taking advantage of me?"

"It was more like cuddling and you were awfully grumpy in your awake state."

"I still am."

At Quinn's pout, Rachel shifts and wraps and arm around her, settling against her, much like she did when Quinn first dozed off. This time, though, Quinn has an arm pulled snug around her back. "Better?"

"A little."

Rachel pushes herself up enough to look at Quinn. "Are you going to be like this the whole time?"

"Maybe."

In an effort to change Quinn's mood (and also because she's been wanting to do this all day), Rachel kisses Quinn, gently, but with purpose. "Does that help?" she asks, before ducking back down for another.

"Maybe," Quinn repeats, but Rachel can feel the smile against her own lips.

They kiss for a little while, though it's awkward because of Quinn's position and Rachel's arms tire from holding herself up, so they resume cuddling. Rachel's hand rests on Quinn's stomach, under her t-shirt, her fingers lightly trailing back and forth.

"I was really worried when I first talked to Finn."

"God, I'm so sorry." Quinn's obviously still groggy and Rachel doesn't want to make her feel any worse.

"It's not your fault."

"I just... if I'd just been more careful at work, this wouldn't have happened. I don't ever want you make you worry about me."

"That's absolutely impossible. I've always been concerned about your well-being, even before we were friends. Remember that time you fell during dance rehearsal, when you were pregnant? It took me a week to stop replaying it in my mind, because I kept imagining the worst possible outcome."

"Oh, you mean like the time I watched Finn slammed his big stupid elbow into your face?" Quinn's arm seems to automatically tighten around Rachel at the memory.

"It was actually his forearm, which is probably a good thing. His elbow would have likely done considerably worse damage."

"Okay, you can stop talking about it."

"I still can't believe you were willing to give me your nose."

"Well, it's not really mine."

Again, Rachel's back upright enough to look Quinn in the face. "It's on your face. And I like your face." To emphasize her point, she kisses Quinn's nose, which immediately wrinkles in response.

They spend the rest of the afternoon with Rachel tucked into Quinn's side as they watch Netflix on Quinn's laptop. It's low-key and comfortable and eventually, Quinn falls asleep, again, and Rachel's left with the sound of her steady breathing.

This might very well be the closest she's ever felt to Quinn.

When Judy arrives home, just after five, Quinn and Rachel are on the couch in the living room, because Quinn insisted she needed a change of scenery after being in her room all afternoon, despite Rachel's argument that Quinn spent most of that time looking at the back of her own eyelids. But Rachel's grateful at Quinn's suggestion, because she doesn't think she's really ready to have Quinn's mother discovering them napping together in Quinn's bed, no matter the circumstances or how accepting she's been of everything.

She's already contacted her fathers to explain the situation and they're aware that Rachel is staying for dinner at the Fabray house.

Judy immediately places her hand on Quinn's forehead, the second she's in reach.

"Mom, it's a sprain, not the flu."

"Actually, Quinn, an increase in body temperature isn't uncommon with this type of injury. Also, a fever of over one hundred degrees could be a sign of infection and possible fract-" Rachel stops herself, because Quinn has that Grumpy Cat look on her face, again. "I did a lot of Googling while you were asleep."

"It's just a hand on your forehead, Quinn. I'm not reading your diary blog or whatever it is you kids do, so please relax." Judy seems satisfied with whatever she's assessed and removes her hand. "I was thinking something simple for dinner. Pasta?"

Quinn nods. "Yes, please."

"Rachel?"

"That would be lovely, thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Keep my daughter from climbing up the walls out of restlessness."

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest. "This isn't fair."

"Do you have any board games?" Rachel asks, as Judy moves for the kitchen.

There's a shrug from Quinn. "I want to work on my car."

"Not an option, right now."

It's partly the injury, partly the painkillers still in her system, partly because Quinn is one of the most stubborn people Rachel's ever met, but they sit in silence for a solid minute and a half. Then, finally, Quinn's shoulders sag. "I think we have Boggle."

"Perfect."

"I guess."

"Hey," Rachel leans in, smoothing Quinn's hair with her hand. "You hurt yourself and you need to rest. And I'm going to be here, every day to play silly board games and watch terrible daytime television with you as much as I can, okay?" Quinn replies with a defeated nod. "And," Rachel's voice lowers. "For every game you win, I'll... do something you really want to do... later."

The corner of Quinn's mouth twitches upward. "A thing for each game I win?"

"Mmhmm."

"We also have Monopoly. And Bible Trivial Pursuit."

"I believe you have a significantly unfair advantage on the latter."

"Only on the New Testament."

"I'm only accepting this challenge, because you're injured." Rachel notices the way Quinn's squirming on the sofa and pulls the coffee table, where her foot's resting on a pillow, closer to the couch.

"That and because you're crazy about me."

Rachel wonders if it's possible that Quinn heard her profession of love earlier, even though she was sound asleep. "Do you think I'd be here, putting up with you if I wasn't?"

"Probably not." Quinn holds out her arm until Rachel settles against her side and she wraps it around her girlfriend. "Thank you," she says, softly.

"We'll see if you're still thanking me when I bankrupt you at Monopoly." Rachel hands Quinn the remote to the television.

"Wait," Quinn says, looking at the remote. "What about the games?"

"After dinner. Right now, I'd just like to enjoy your company before I dominate you." There's a deep chuckle from Quinn and Rachel's already blushing at her own choice of words. "Will you just pick something to watch?"

Quinn selects some Animal Planet clip show about the world's cutest animals and Rachel realizes that it's possible she's just going to keep falling for Quinn a little more, each and every day.


	11. Chapter 11

After dinner and a few rounds of Boggle, they're back up in Quinn's room. It's taken fifteen minutes to finally get Quinn in a position where she's comfortable and she keeps mumbling that she'll never be able to sleep lying on her back like this, but Rachel's determined to keep Quinn's mind off of the negative and more focused on the positive.

"So?" she asks. She's on the bed, sitting on her knees, bare legs tucked underneath her plaid skirt as she faces Quinn.

"So, what?" Quinn asks.

"You beat me, two out of three."

That's enough to elicit a crooked smirk from Quinn. "I did, didn't I?"

"So?" Rachel inquires, again. "What do you... want me to do?"

"Oh." Quinn's mouth hangs open as the realization of what Rachel's possibly suggesting settles in her brain. "Um... you don't have to d-"

"Quinn. If you can't come up with anything, I'll just have to think of something." She's already reaching behind her own back, up under her shirt.

"Are you...?" There's a raised eyebrow pointed in Rachel's direction.

Rachel just continues with her current task and, within moments, she's pulling her bra out the sleeve of the scoop neck t-shirt she's wearing. "I'm just saying that you have had a terribly long and difficult day." She neatly places the bra on the side of the bed, then looks back to Quinn, who's currently glancing between Rachel and the closed door of the bedroom. "Is this a bad idea?"

"Probably?" Quinn's eyes settle on Rachel's face, as if she's trying not to shift her gaze downward.

"I can put it back on," Rachel says, picking up Quinn's hand in her own. "Or, I can leave it off." She guides Quinn's hand to the bottom of her shirt and slips it beneath the fabric, pressing Quinn's palm and fingers against her stomach. Even though she's just placed the hand there, Rachel's breath catches right along with Quinn's, maybe because of the way Quinn's looking up at her or maybe because Quinn's fingertips gently stroke her skin.

"I... you... leave it off," Quinn manages, then she slowly pushes her hand upward, away from Rachel's light grasp on her wrist.

There's an urge for Rachel's eyes to close, but she doesn't want to miss any of this. "Okay," she replies with a lazy nod, shifting to lean even closer to her girlfriend.

Quinn's fingers graze over the swell of Rachel's breast and then her palm cups around it, pressed firmly against a rapidly hardening nipple. They've done this over the clothes, before. But this is skin on skin and they're in Quinn's bed and Rachel can't stop herself from leaning all the way down to kiss Quinn. She's careful to angle herself away from the sprained ankle, but Quinn seems to be sufficiently distracted from any pain, for the moment, given the way she's caressing and squeezing underneath Rachel's shirt. When they kiss, it's almost as if neither of them can decide whether they want their attention to be on their lips or on the very clear, very undeniable rounding of under-the-shirt second base that's happening, right now.

One of Rachel's hands is pressed into the comforter, keeping her balanced as she kisses her girlfriend, the other rests on Quinn's abdomen, on top of her t-shirt. There's a feeling of movement under fingers and she realizes Quinn is tugging the garment upward and Rachel gets the hint.

This is a first for them, not just for them as a couple, but in general. Neither of them ever allowed any of their male suitors any action under the bra, let alone without a bra present at all. But right now, Quinn Fabray is the first person to gently roll Rachel's nipple between her fingers, causing Rachel draw in a sharp, quick breath. Her own hand is exploring under Quinn's shirt and she has to pull back from the kiss to focus, because everything is new, right now, and these are all things she wants to remember.

Her forehead is dipped down, resting on Quinn's shoulder and their combined breathing is the only sound in the moment as they both take the time to touch, feel, and experience this. She kisses Quinn's neck and it's then that the idea settles in her mind and she knows there's no shaking it. Another kiss is placed lower, on Quinn's collarbone, then in the t-shirt covered space just above where her hand moves under the cotton fabric. There's a glance upward to catch Quinn's gaze and she hasn't said anything, but there's a nod of affirmation. Still, she's cautious as she pushes the shirt up further, until she's watching her own fingers trailing over soft, pale skin, circling around a now very firm, erect nipple.

When her mouth makes contact, Quinn groans and it has to be the sexiest sound Rachel has ever heard. And she immediately becomes obsessed with making it happen, again. Her tongue navigates around the aroused flesh, then flicks over it. Immediately, there's a hand wrapped in her hair and Quinn's fingertips are dragging over the back of her neck.

"Rach..." is the raspy and whispered response she earns.

Smiling to herself, Rachel guides her mouth to the opposite side, just to see if the reaction is exactly the same. This time, Quinn seems a little more prepared, though she still whimpers as she exhales. She takes her time, alternating between them, leaving kisses as she trails back and forth. There gets to be a point where Quinn's breathing is heavier than usual and Rachel wonders if they should stop. Before she can ask, though, there's a knock on Quinn's bedroom door and she's quick to scramble to the side as Quinn tugs her shirt down.

They're entirely disheveled when Judy enters the room, but she doesn't address the situation. Instead, she holds a tray with two mugs on it.

"I know it's summer," Judy says, casually placing the tray on Quinn's desk. "But when she was a little girl, Quinn always liked a cup of cocoa whenever she was home on a sick day."

"Thanks, Mom." Quinn's trying to sit up and Rachel does her best to assist her while still trying to make sure her top isn't hiked up so far as to disclose what exactly they've been up to.

"Of course, sweetie." There's a soft smile at her daughter, then Judy's attention is on Rachel. "Your fathers called and said they'd like you home within the hour. You're welcome to come back anytime tomorrow morning."

Rachel offers a nod of confirmation. "I suppose I have been here a while."

"You're always welcome, dear." There's another small smile and then Judy's gone, although the door is still open, which Rachel doesn't think is accidental.

Especially because her bra is still sitting on the edge of the bed, plain as day.

Two days (and four cups of off-season hot cocoa) later, Quinn's shaken most of the Grumpy Cat persona, but she's increasingly restless. This afternoon, in particular, she's supposed to be listening to Rachel's list of possible college application suggestions, but instead seems pre-occupied with getting under Rachel's blouse.

"Quinn, this is your future at stake." Rachel's annoyed, but only mildly, because it's actually quite difficult to be angry while her hormones are easily falling in line with what Quinn's hands are doing.

"I know. And I'm listening. I just..." It's oddly gentle, the way Quinn pulls Rachel's iPhone out of her hand and places it on the nightstand, particularly in comparison to the way her hands find Rachel's hips and firmly urge her to shift position, one that leaves Rachel straddling Quinn's lap.

They're in Quinn's bedroom, because this is only day three of recovery. Though, if the patient has anything to say about it, it's the last and final one she's spending cooped up in her bedroom. Quinn's sitting up, foot still slightly elevated, her back against the headboard. Judy's at work and they have most of the day to themselves. Which is probably why Rachel isn't particularly self conscious about the fact that her shirt is being very deliberately unbuttoned and pushed off of her shoulders. There's a moment of hesitation, as if Quinn isn't sure if it's acceptable to remove the top completely, but Rachel reassures her by pushing it the rest of the way down her arms and tossing it against the pillows. This is the most undressed she's ever been in front of anyone, outside of changing into costumes for a performance.

"You're just what?" Rachel asks, still waiting for Quinn to finish the sentence she started, though she doesn't even know if there are actual words for this moment.

It takes a few seconds for Quinn to reply, possibly because she's fixated on the bra-clad breasts that are literally right in front of her face. "Incredibly lucky?" she offers, finally shifting her gaze upward, that single eyebrow creeping higher.

Rachel can't resist the urge to tousle Quinn's hair, then her hand slides behind Quinn's neck and pulls her close enough to kiss her. Even though Quinn still has her shirt on, it's a tank top, so when her arms wrap around Rachel, it's all skin against her back and sides. It doesn't take long, though, before one hand works its way around and leads to fingers tracing the satin edging of the yellow and white striped bra.

For a moment, Rachel allows the exploration to continue, but then she covers Quinn's hand with her own and stops the motion. "Wait."

Quinn drops her head to Rachel's shoulder and pants out, "Sorry."

"No... it's not..." She tips Quinn's chin up toward her. "Quinn," she says, before kissing her, again. "If we're going to continue further with our intimate exploratory sessions, I'd just rather not do it with the door open." There's another kiss and then Rachel's up, off Quinn, off the bed, topless as she pads across the bedroom floor toward the door.

"She'll be at work for hours, Rach," Quinn says, leaning back as she watches her girlfriend.

The door clicks shut and Rachel twists the lock before she turns back around to face Quinn. "And she's been worried about you, so what if she comes home to make sure you're okay?"

"She'll call."

It takes two seconds for Rachel to bound back to the bed and climb right back on it until she's next to Quinn. "What if she thinks you're napping and doesn't want to wake you?"

"What if we stop talking about my mother?"

Now that Quinn's position is more horizontal, Rachel finds herself lying on her side, toying with the bottom hem of Quinn's tank top. "What would you like to talk about, instead?"

"I think I'd like to know more about this intimate exploratory session," Quinn's voice is dead serious, save for the giggle that erupts a half second later.

"If you're going to make fun of me, I can just get dressed and get back to college applications." The threat is empty, given that Rachel doesn't even bother to reach for her top or her even her phone. Instead, her hand has Quinn's own shirt halfway up her abdomen.

"Education is important," Quinn muses. For a moment, it seems like she's genuinely about to turn the topic to potential universities, because she pushes herself upright, but then tugs her tank top up, away from Rachel's fingers, until it's completely removed. It lands somewhere on the floor near the nightstand.

Unlike Rachel, Quinn hasn't bothered with a bra. Which leaves Rachel staring and chewing at her bottom lip. The sentence that finds its way out is, "How's your ankle?" even though her eye-line is nowhere near the anatomy in question.

"It's okay."

"So you're feeling..."

"Rachel?"

"Huh?"

But there's no verbal comment from Quinn, just strong hands pulling her close, tugging them together until they're both lying down, Rachel on top, her arms astride a head of messy blonde hair. Her mouth finds Quinn's and this moment, the immediacy of it, reminds her of that night in the back of the Mustang. Her legs settle on either side of one of Quinn's and she revels in the sensation of the way her stomach feels against the uncovered span of skin beneath it. When Quinn's fingertips dance along the back of her bra, Rachel nods and, in seconds, they're both half-naked, lying together, panting and kissing while hands are wandering, though all the deliberate action is still decidedly above the belt.

Or, it is, until Rachel unconsciously rocks a certain way and, suddenly, Quinn's hands are on her hips, tightly gripping pleated plaid.

"Are..." Quinn seems to want to form a sentence, but the words are not forthcoming. She licks her lips and makes a second attempt. "Are we... did you want to..."

"Did you?" Rachel asks, bringing one hand up to push a wave of fallen hair away from her face. This would certainly qualify as further intimate exploration.

"I..." There's a nod. "If you do."

Rachel can't help smiling as she says, "I do."

The next kiss is gentle and sweet, even lingering, as Quinn's hands release their grip on Rachel, though they don't roam far, settling on her lower back. Tentatively, Rachel shifts her weight and presses her thigh against the apex between Quinn's legs, the fabric of her skirt hiking up, letting her skin meet Quinn's cheerleading camp shorts. There's a groan and then Quinn's leg, the one with the good ankle, happens to the be the one Rachel's basically straddling, raises up, just a little, as Quinn plants her foot firmly against the bed. It's Rachel's turn to respond, in this case, with a whimper at the sensation she's feeling as Quinn's own thigh, bare against the cotton of a pair of yellow and white striped underwear.

It takes a few exchanges of motion to find a rhythm, but despite the fact that neither of them have done this before, they're able to fall in sync, at least enough to leave Rachel breathing heavily against Quinn's neck as they move. Their hands are latched together, fingers intertwined, and Quinn's breath patterns are close to Rachel's, her hips angling up as Rachel pushes down, and Rachel's adamant about seeing this through. There's a familiar pull, low in her body, the same kind she feels on late nights when she's feeling particularly pleased with her life plan and her inevitable success. Only this, this is somehow even more primal than Broadway, this is Quinn holding her, moving with her, kissing her - and it all culminates in a shudder that draws her body tight, arches her back, and forces a groan out of her.

She doesn't realize she's stopped moving until Quinn's leg drops down against the bed. Her head raises and she looks at Quinn. "Did you..."

"Just relax, Rach." Quinn pushes her head back down and her arms tighten around Rachel's body.

Rachel wants to argue that it's unfair for her to be awarded an orgasm while Quinn has not, but she could use a moment to catch her breath. There's also something incredible about lying on Quinn's bare chest and listening to her heartbeat.

It feels about like perfection.


End file.
